


Let's Take A Sentimental Journey (Don't Forget To Bleed)

by MalachiWalker



Series: Rhythm & Blues (C'mon, Darlin', Make Some Noise) [3]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: "NOT A STANDALONE FIC", AS MANY TIMES AS I NEED UNTIL IT STOPS HURTING, Adora's lack of chill makes its first appearence, And the 80s show had all of four, And they all had stupid names, As if she didn't have enough to deal with, Because needs be and I'm a MONSTER, Catra and Adora have a mutual protective streak and it causes PROBLEMS, Catra grapples with her canon self's PTSD transcending universes, Chapter two has hurt/comfort like wow, Coping with emotional trauma by getting really hardcore about your hobby, F/F, Found family for the win, How many times will I recreate The Promise?, I give Catra a happy childhood for five seconds just to take it away, Just like an anime character, Man all of these kids have steel in their spines and snark in their hearts, Now rated M for Shadow Weaver being Shadow Weaver, Oh crap the hurt/comfort came back for the finale, Original Magicat characters because canon hasn't given us any yet, Pretty graphic depiction of a car wreck, Shadow Weaver's A+ Parenting, Tao is named after one but he's basically an OC, Unsubtle racists getting their comeuppance, We're in the fright zone now so you know what that means:, i.e. a child torturing MONSTER
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-16 00:53:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 37,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21262409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalachiWalker/pseuds/MalachiWalker
Summary: Six year old Catra Leandros has just lost her parents, inherited a metric fuckton of ghosts/psychological trauma, discovered herself through music and fought hard to be accepted into the Right Zone Academy of Arts. And if there's one thing she's learned from the experience, it's that when life seems to stop kicking you in the teeth, it's probably just gearing up to gut punch you instead.Still, she wasn't expecting that some of the echoes inside her head wouldn't just stay there. Or that the dream girl she's been following around for months is apparently flesh and blood too, along with her nightmares.---------A series of chapters exploring Catra and Adora's time together at (F)Right Zone Academy of Arts, and how the more things change, the more some things stay the same.





	1. My Glories and My State Depose (But Not My Griefs, I Still Have Those)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could say "Happy Halloween" dudes, but honestly the date was incidental to writing this thing. But I do wish any of you celebrating today to have a good one, and stay safe.
> 
> Please note that if Catra in this fic seems way too eloquent for any five year old, that's a deliberate stylistic choice on my part to show that the memories are being filtered through adult Catra's perception. Ever had a memory of your childhood where you were way cooler/wittier than any kid that age should have been? Same principle.
> 
> Fair warning starting off: this chapter starts off in a really raw place with the death of Catra's parents in a drunk driving accident, so if you have problems with car crashes and especially drowning, I recommend skipping that segment. And since we have to deal with the fall out from that, this fic is gonna be a lot less funny and light-hearted than the previous ones, at least for now. Also, Shadow Weaver has now officially made her entrance into this fic with just... all of the dread, so appropriate trigger warnings for her and everything about her. But on the plus side, Adora makes her entrance too, so she'll be around to keep things from going too terrible.

Catra Leandros is a few weeks shy of her fifth birthday the first time life decides to kick her hard in the teeth, and takes her parents from her.

It's a car accident that does it. Which statistically speaking isn't particularly noteworthy at all; almost expected, even. Aside from house fires and the ever present specter of homicide, that was just the most likely way for two parents to be torn from their child in a single go.

No, the thing that makes the deaths of C'yra Leandros and her husband Felix spectacular in the sickest sense of the word--the thing that makes the retired beat-cop-turned-records-clerk actually _flinch_ when nineteen year old Catra comes seeking the accident report--is the _details_.

A drunk driver was the instigator of the entire hideous mess. Again, no big surprise there; drunken stupidity made the world go round. What made it unusual was that it wasn't the drunk in the Chevy Corvette that ultimately took out the Leandros parents, their Corolla and very nearly their child.

No, it was the eighteen wheeler the drunk ran into that did that.

Nearly two decades later Catra will flip through the official accident report with trembling hands and barely suppressed sobs, and fill in the gaps in her memories.

Here's what she actually remembers:

The three of them driving home at night after a rare family excursion. Her mother in the driver's seat, singing along to a song on the radio and encouraging Catra to join her even if she can't pronounce some of the words or messes the beat up. The corner of Felix's smile as he turns his head to say something to his wife. The rush of headlights in the rearview as another car gets within literal inches of their bumper, honking angrily because _how dare they drive at a reasonable speed limit down this road at night?_

(The report Catra holds crinkling in her hands specifies that he ignored the double line zone on the bridge to go around the car, hitting the gas hard and fast.)

A poor move, ultimately, since it brought him straight into the path of the eighteen wheeler coming around the corner, headlights obscured by the curve of the hill. The dipshit dies as he lived; recklessly endangering those around him and not giving a single fuck.

But the eighteen wheeler doesn't (_couldn't_) stop.

Whoever wrote the report was quoted as saying it was a minor act of God--and superb Magicat reflexes--that C'yra Leandros jerked the wheel hard to the left as the other vehicle, its driver blinded by pain and having next to no control, effectively barreled into their lane. If it had hit at that angle, all three of them would have likely been killed instantly. In fact, C'yra's reaction time was so great that if she had been in a newer, more responsive vehicle she might have avoided the eighteen wheeler's trajectory entirely.

Close, but no cigar.

All Catra remembers is white light, the even whiter pain of her entire body slamming back against gravity, and a blaring noise that broke the world.

Felix died instantly when the force of the impact smashed into the passenger side, essentially breaking all his bones at once. The report makes that very clear.

(Fourteen years and change later, Catra's stomach heaves violently at the unwelcome thought that comes to mind. _Guess you were the lucky one, Dad._)

Because that's the thing about being smacked into by a 24 ton death machine (and yes, she checked. The fucking thing had been carrying roofing tiles): the law of inertia tragically still applies.

The bridge's pissy little guard rail--a cheap steel curve held up by wooden posts anchored in soil eroded by years of rain--stood absolutely no chance of arresting their momentum. In fact, the only thing that stopped the eighteen wheeler from going the same way and smearing the entire family across the bottom of the river had been it tipping over on its side upon going off the road.

The next thing Catra remembers is the water.

The vehicle drops into the river like a stone, all outside sound going dim even as water rushes into the vehicle from the cracks in the windshield and the damage done to her father's side. She remembers crying out in fear and pain as it rose fast. She remembers the sound of the windshield beginning to buckle under the weight of the water as they sink further down, like the crack of a thousand tiny bird skulls.

But it is what happens in the next 8.5 seconds--seconds made razor sharp and yet hauntingly unreal with all the pain and adrenaline and _fear_ she is experiencing--that becomes both Catra's ruination and salvation, the first of the many ghosts she carries across her back.

Because Cyra's head jerks between the windshield and her daughter in the back seat (_mismatched eyes just like mine visible even through the blood coating her face, dad always said we looked just alike but mom said I got his smile_) and makes an executive decision.

"Catra! Hold your breath! Don't let it out!" She roars, as she slams the seat lever all the way back and grabs for her daughter, claws slicing through the seatbelt effortlessly as she yanks Catra forward into her lap. Lying horizontally now, she holds her close for the span of a heartbeat, a moment that is branded across Catra's mind forever.

"We love you, little kit," Her mother whispered against her ear, nuzzling her cheek against Catra's one last time. "Now _live_."

With one kick of her foot the windshield shatters and the water pours into the car and everything becomes a rush of noise.

And then Catra feels herself being flung upwards, as C'yra slams open the driver's side door just enough to throw her child free.

(The salt-stained report uses a lot of technical jargon to explain the mechanics of C'yra's last gambit; how redirecting the force of the river into the car enabled her to basically ensure Catra's relatively smooth passage outward and upward in a way that wouldn't have worked had she simply tried to kick out the windshield and have her exit that way or do the same via the door. By effectively forcing the car to fill entirely with water _first _and equalize the pressure, her opening of the car door redirected the motion outwards instead of allowing more water--and thus conflicting force--to pour in and stop her from forcing Catra out.

It was a brilliant strategy. Factor in the fact that the river was dammed and not flowing at all in the dry autumn, and that was the push needed for little Catra Leandros's survival instinct to take over and drive her desperately to the surface, only six feet above the top of the car.)

Catra doesn't remember that part, and years down the road Micah reassures her that it's not at all uncommon in situations like that, where fear and adrenaline take over to the point where rational thought shuts down. It's no disparagement on her character; she simply doesn't remember because her mind was in such overdrive it didn't even bother to see if the recording was running.

Small favor, that.

The next thing she does remember is crawling onto the embankment--coughing water from her lungs and shaking in the early October air--before collapsing into the cold, slimy mud and sobbing as she waited for an emergence from the water that never came.

(A decade and a half later, she gets her answer to that one: the same impact that shattered her husband beyond repair slammed C'yra into the steering wheel so hard that the resulting shattered ribs were driven into her lungs. Even as she used her last desperate reserves of strength to free Catra from the vehicle, her lungs had been filling up with blood.

Felix was killed instantly. C'yra _drowned_.)

Catra Leandros, a few weeks shy of her fifth birthday alone and freshly orphaned, curled up on the embankment and sobbed for close to an hour until the emergency crews found her.

\----------

Felix had grown up without parents. Catra couldn't remember her mother ever talking about hers, and when they were contacted following the accident to inquire about taking Catra in, the only reply was from the family lawyer. Which, yeah, told Catra pretty much everything she needed to know.

So once she was discharged from the hospital, she was shipped off to the orphanage instead.

Honestly, with the benefit of hindsight, it wasn't a bad place. It was small, only about fifteen kids altogether and aimed specifically at and staffed by Magicats. But being so small an operation also meant that money was tight and the staff, though kind-hearted, were perpetually overworked and underpaid.

And frankly, completely unprepared to deal with a case like Catra's.

The memory of the first few months is fogged over in her mind. Catra described it once to Micah as being like a walking corpse; alive in the loosest sense of the word, but only that. She barely ate, barely talked, barely even slept. Her brain was rendered down into nothing more than a haze of pain and sorrow, her will to live spread so thin you couldn't even butter half a slice of bread with it.

The only time she can remember snapping out of it in those first few months was the one time a caretaker--unaware of the details of her arrival--tried to give her a bath and Catra gouged _furrows_ in his arms fighting like a cornered animal.

The caretaker, a sandy colored and very kind Magicat named Tao, later apologized to _her_ when the situation was explained, but Catra still felt guilty for the next few weeks when she saw either the bandages or the healing pink scars he idly scratched at when he thought she wasn't looking.

The months dragged on. Slowly. _Painfully_.

In all her dreams, she drowned.

\----------

Several of the kids, Catra included, were too young to be enrolled in school. To try to give them a leg up and a sense of routine, the day carers would try to teach those kids basic stuff for half the day and let them play together or do as they wanted (albeit under supervision) the rest of the time.

Catra alternated between mechanically doing the work or sitting by herself--though Tao usually came and sat beside her when he was on shift. He didn't try to force her to talk or go play with the others, like most of the other caretakers had started out trying and even now occasionally gave another go; just stayed by her side, a mute but comforting presence. Even in the fog she was trapped in, Catra was grateful for that.

The turning point came in the spring, about six months after her arrival.

"Ok kids," One of the other caregivers, a black and white female Magicat with a boundless enthusiasm, clapped her hands together at the kids crowded around a table. Spread atop were a variety of instruments; a ukulele, a tambourine, a set of maracas, a hand drum, even a set of bells. "Music can be a great way to have fun and express ourselves. So feel free to take a look at these instruments and play around with them. Who knows, you might find one that you like."

Catra cast a critical eye over what was there, discarding each in her mind's eye even as the other kits clambered and bickered over them and the lady Magicat tried to keep order. Something was _scratching_ at the back of her mind, some nameless urge she couldn't quite put a claw on. She almost went for the ukulele, but then another kit gave it an experimental strum and she recoiled. The sound was all _wrong_.

Catra didn't know how she knew that, only that she felt it in her blood, singing and whispering to her in words she couldn't quite make out.

She was about to turn away and slink off to the beanbag chair in the corner when the door was shouldered open by a panting and disheveled Tao, running his claws through his sweaty mane.

In his other hand, he held the neck of an acoustic guitar.

Catra's mind fell back into her body with all the immediacy--and grace--of a baby bird toppling from the nest.

"Sorry I'm late," Tao said to the other adult, reaching with his free hand to affectionately pat the side of the guitar. "This guy's been in storage for a while, so I needed to pick up some new strings."

"No problem," The other chuckled, turning and beaming down at the kids. "Tao here used to be in a band back when he was in high school, so he agreed to show you guys what can happen if you practice hard enough at music."

"Don't hype me up too much, Kiara. I'm way outta practice," Tao grumbled, but he still smiled and caressed the guitar lovingly as he sat down on top of one of the desks. Then he addressed the cluster of kits in front of him. "This one's one of my favorites from when I was a kit--though I was a bit older than you guys and I had to change my first choice so the Miss over there wouldn't smack me."

He winked, and Kiara rolled her eyes fondly.

And then, after taking a few moments to tune up, he started to play.

Later on, when Catra knew more about music, she would know and love that song as "Summer of '69." But as she sat there listening and watching Tao's fingers dance up and down the guitar, she was instead bowled over by a surge of memory.

_"Mama, mama!" She cried out, reaching up with one of her chubby paws to bat at her mother's jaw. She was comfortably ensconced in C'yra's lap while her mother sat cross legged on the floor, back against the couch and eyes closed, her guitar held loosely in her hands and her entire body rumbling with purrs and wordless hums._

_"Hmm?" C'yra paused and cracked open her golden eye to look down at her. "What's up, kit? Don't like the music?"_

_"What's it called?"_

_"Huh?"_

_"The song you're making, with your-," And here she made a tiny little purring growl of her own. "What's it called?"_

_"Ah..." C'yra smiled knowingly as she picked up the strumming again. "I don't know if it has a name, really. I don't think it's ever needed one. You see... Every Magicat in the world knows this song."_

_"Ohhhhh..." Catra dragged out the word, wanting to convey that she understood even though she really didn't. She leaned back into her mother's chest, listening to her breathing and the distant sound of her heartbeat. "What does it mean then?"_

_A knowing chuckle informed her that her facade of maturity had just crumbled like a straw house. "Can't you tell?"_

_"Mama!" She admonished, reaching up to bat at her again._

_Another chuckle, and the press of lips against the top of her head. "It just means I love you, kit."_

She came back to the present as Tao fumbled the last few chords with a discordant twang. He just laughed. "That's what happens when you don't practice enough, kids!"

After, when all of the other kids had grabbed the instruments and run off to "practice" (or in the case of the girl who grabbed the bells, try to whack her older brother with them) Catra slowly inched over to where Tao was still sitting and strumming mindlessly. He paused when he saw her. "Something the matter, Catra?"

"Can I...?" She swallowed past the sudden pain in her throat, nervous and somehow aching with want. "Can I see? Please?"

Tao blinked in surprise, ears going up, then shifted into a soft smile. "Sure thing, kiddo. Be careful though. These two thin strings on the bottom can break if you catch your claws on them wrong. Try to strum with the backs of your fingers until you get the hang of it. Like this."

He demonstrated for her before carefully passing the guitar over, handling it like it was something inconceivably precious. Catra found herself doing the same, but for different reasons.

She was still too little to hold to guitar properly (she could barely even wrap her arms around the full body) so she instead laid it gently on the carpeted floor in front of her and began running her hands across its body, getting to know the feel of it. She plucked at one string experimentally, laying her hand against the wood and closing her eyes to feel the vibrations.

She _knew_ this.

Beginning her investigation in earnest, Catra plucked each string in turn, brows furrowing when it only produced a single sound each. Nothing like the sounds her mother or Tao had been able to coax from it.

Tao chuckled, drawing her from her thoughts. "You make the other sounds by pressing down on the strings. Here."

Moving to sit behind her, reaching over her with his long limbs (though thankfully not touching her--Catra wasn't entirely sure she wouldn't burst into tears at that) he showed her how to press down on the strings at the points along the fret board. She strummed again, ears pricking up and tail lashing as it made a different sound.

_Much better._

Her mission clear, she slowly worked her way up and down the fret board, pressing each string down and striking a few times to commit the note to memory as she chased down the sounds her mother played. One by one, she coaxed them free.

_Got 'em!_ Catra's eyes narrowed in concentration as she began to carefully pick out the notes she had mentally marked down as part of that nameless song. It was slow going in her clumsy hands, sometimes redoing entire sections when she forgot where one note was located on the neck, but soon it was starting to take a recognizable shape.

A purr started to form in her chest. _You're here with me, right?_

And then she was jolted out of her rhythm when she realized just how _quiet_ the rest of the room had become; six pairs of kit eyes and two adults locked on her. Her tail curled tight against her waist, ears folding back. What had she done?

Fortunately, Tao came to the rescue, speaking softly. "That was very pretty, Catra. Where'd you hear that?"

There it was, the sob catching in her throat no matter how hard she fought to hold it back. "M-Mama..."

"I see," Tao murmured, shooting a quick look to Kiara that said 'distract the others, I've got this'. Gently, telegraphing his moves so he wouldn't startle her, he reached out and ran his fingers carefully through her mane. "It sounds like she loved you very much."

Another sob slipped out, and Catra drew her legs up to her chest and buried her face in them. "Miss her... Miss them so much."

"I know. And I know that it hurts. And it's okay for you to miss them," He continued soothing her, brushing the tips of his claws against her ears as she rocked back and forth. "But for what it's worth... I think they left behind something really special."

Catra stopped and lifted her head, eyes darting between him and the guitar.

"Well, you're close," Tao chuckled, but then he smiled softly. "Do you want to learn more?"

And at Catra's fierce nod, he laughed again and reached over to put her hands on the guitar once more.

That was how it all started.

\----------

The drowning dreams started to settle down after that.

In a way, it was natural. Whenever she woke panting against the weight in her chest, her mother's voice seemed to whisper in her ears: "_We love you, little kit. Now live._" And that somehow made it easier to breathe again.

It got even easier when, a month into their lessons, Tao walked in one day with a cocky grin on his face and a child sized guitar in his other hand. When some of the other caregivers apart from Kiara gave him looks of disapproval, he shot a dirty look back and groused, "Reeeeelax, ok? First of all, it's my money to spend as I please. But if you're that worried, you'll be happy to know I got it cheap at a yard sale. We can go see the boss and I can justify my decision to him if you want. _You_ try teaching a five year old on a full sized guitar, see how easy it is for you."

Catra never mentioned the fact that, although the guitar had a few suspiciously aesthetic looking dings and scratches across the body, it didn't carry any _scent_ on it beyond that of the other Magicat. That was a secret for her and Tao alone.

Officially, to avoid accusations of undue favoritism, Tao was the owner of the guitar and took it home on the nights when he had a shift the next day. But he left it at the orphanage when he had days off, so Catra could practice when he wasn't around.

On those nights, when the dreams came, she'd sit up and draw the guitar close, fingertips playing very softly across the strings so as not to wake the other five kids who also slept in the room. Considering that she had previously been waking them up via sobbing and/or screaming, Catra had a sneaking suspicion that a few of them had been woken up from time to time by her midnight jam sessions, but accepted it as a step up from the previous incidents and went back to sleep.

It was good. It was emotionally clean, even purifying in a way.

But then the new dreams started to sneak in. They actually started out pleasant enough, if really weird.

_-chasing after the back of a blonde human girl about her age through vast corridors made of metal, laughter ringing off the walls._

_"C'mon, Catra!" The other girl shouted as she reached back and grabbed her hand, urging her to run faster. And Catra's stomach fluttered with a feeling she couldn't quite put a name to, even if it felt so familiar..._

She woke up feeling lonely afterwards, but she couldn't deny that it was nice to have a friend, even if only while she slept. Tao... Tao was her mentor and he always treated her kindly and respectfully, but Catra would still have hesitated to call him a friend. There was just too much of a gap between them. Their connecting point was music and that was that. And she didn't really know _how_ to reach out to the other Magicat kids after so many months in the darkness, and they in turn seemed content to leave her alone and let her practice her music in peace.

But the dreams steadily began to grow darker, a shadow creeping over the periphery even as she and the still unnamed dream girl had the time of their lives together, playing tag and exploring and generally getting into trouble.

Then came the tipping point.

_They were playing together in a dark and spooky room with a towering red crystal and Catra could feel her hackles rising even as she fought to keep her attention on her friend. But with very little in the way of warning, the door opened and the shadows themselves seemed to twist and take form, a figure dressed in a long red outfit with a swirling mass of darkness for hair stepping forth from beyond._

_They both instinctively tried to hide, ducking out of the figure's sight._

_But then the girl beside her gasped._

_And sickly bloodshot eyes locked on them both. "GET OUT!"_

_Catra tried to run, following her friend's back (the way she always did) to the door but in the next second she was frozen in place, crackling red energy just visible at the corner of her eyes, and pain causing her muscles to seize and lock up._

_"Catra," The voice was sickly sweet and positively dripping with malice. "You stay."_

_Her body, not obeying her, turned to face the figure. Its face was hidden by a mask, but those cold white eyes were definitely locked on her._

_Desperate to escape the dream, Catra forced her eyes shut and the scene seemed to skip forward a little, until the figure was towering over her, cold white eyes boring into Catra with what she instinctively knew was pure, unadulterated hatred. The pain of the vice increased as the figure leaned in. Just a little, but enough that Catra felt like her hummingbird heart would explode as her body fought to show something, anything, beyond the absolute fear in her eyes._

_"You have never been more than a nuisance to me," The figure hissed at her, and Catra realized with a start that it was a woman. "I've kept you around this long because ----- was fond of you."_

_Something strange happened there, sounds skipping over a section. A name, maybe?_

_"But if you ever do anything to jeopardize her future, I will dispose of you myself."_

_Her friend dove between them, begging the figure to stop. The shadows abated but the pain still lanced across Catra's body._

For the first time in months, Catra woke up screaming.

\----------

Like most things in her life, it fell into a rhythm after that. The dreams when it was just her and the girl playing around and having fun... Those were good. Better than anything Catra had ever known, aside from her parents' arms around her or the feel of her hands on the strings of her guitar. But the dreams where that shadow woman appeared... Those were so much worse, even worse than the drowning.

Even worse than the pain that lanced through her chest when her friend tried to stop the woman, but did nothing to stop the pain crackling across every nerve.

Did she even know? Did she even realize that even when the shadow woman seemingly backed down from her requests, that power still kept Catra in place, a fist squeezing down around her heart in silent warning. _Do not defy me,_ it said.

And then there were the dreams--rare though they were--when her friend wasn't even around to stop her. When Catra was left to face the true wrath of that figure who so inexplicably hated her.

_Is it even worth it?_ She wondered as she huddled in the space where her cot met the corner of the dorm room. _Is it even worth wanting to see her, when the price is so high?_

Tao frowned when he noticed the dark circles building under her eyes again, but he just reached over and gently stroked her head before going back to teaching her how to play "Knocking on Heaven's Door," patiently guiding her through the switch offs between chords as her hands became used to the motions.

Summer came, and all the older kids who went to school during the day came back full time, making the place more rowdy. Tao still practiced with her when he could and gave her little challenges to keep her occupied when he couldn't, but more kids around meant less time for her. Not when the tuxedo twins were daring each other to backflip off the top of the bunk beds again.

Catra was alone again, except for a single girl in her dreams, and even that was beginning to feel less and less like a positive.

\----------

"Are you fucking _insane_, Alder?"

Catra's ears pricked up in alarm, both at the sheer vitriol in Tao's voice and the use of the word 'fucking'. She'd heard it before, of course, from her parents; C'yra in particular could go off on an epic tear when cut off in traffic or when someone muttered 'animals' upon seeing the three in public, but she'd always told Catra that she had to wait until she was older to use the word herself and that like most things in life it needed to be used only when it was important. (Which was usually the cue for Felix to tease her about busting it out in traffic.)

So for _Tao_ of all people to be using it... That told her this was probably really important.

So she stopped just outside the door to the office Tao had entered, listening in.

In truth, she had only followed because she'd been waiting for their weekly check-in on her progress, alert and excited as her mentor walked in and made his way over to her. But halfway across the room one of the other caretakers stopped him, whispering something in Tao's ear too low for Catra to make out at this distance through the noise of the other kids.

But it was Tao's reaction that caught her attention, ears snapping forward as he glanced sharply at the other caregiver, before looking at her with a smile that was too big and too loud compared to his usual softness to be real. He held up a finger, mouthed "Wait here just a sec, kiddo," and then turned and _stalked_ out of the room.

The other adult watched him go, but then was distracted when two of the other kids rammed into the back of his legs while play fighting.

There were no eyes upon her. So Catra--burning with curiosity despite Tao telling her to wait--took the opportunity and slipped out the door, following Tao's scent trail to the office where the manager of the building, Alder, usually holed up unless he was greeting new orphans with a plastic smile on his face.

The man himself began speaking with the obvious insincerity of someone who was forever making speeches in his head. "I assure you, Tao, I take the safety and futures of those under my care very carefully under consideration-"

"Yes, real considerate: plotting to ship Catra off to Right Zone the instant it benefited you."

Catra clapped a hand over her mouth, shoulders drawing in as she fought to keep from screaming. They were getting rid of her? _Why_?

"It would benefit Miss Leandros as well, Tao. It's not as if I'm sending her to a military school or something. Right Zone is an arts academy focused on music first, and if Miss Leandros does well there she'll have a better shot at a future upon graduation than she can possibly receive here."

"And I suppose the fact that you get brownie points for sending a kid there has nothing to do with it? Are you even listening to yourself? It's been less than a year since Catra lost her parents and less than three months since she started to come out of her shell and _live_ again, and you honestly think just dumping her into a completely new environment halfway across the country is a good idea?!"

"Tao," The other Magicat cut in with a weary sigh. "Let me be frank with you, here. I know that you have gotten close to Mis- to _Catra_ these past few months. I'm not going to judge or reprimand you for that; even though we're told to be impartial and not pick favorites, we still have them. It's inevitable. And I won't deny that your instinct to assist Catra has lead to her making considerable progress.

"But I also recognize the signs. The simple fact of the matter is that Catra will likely never be adopted if she remains here. As utterly heartless as it is--and I despise the fact that I even have to say it--the statistics show that kids with significant trauma either don't get adopted in the first place, or get bounced back the instant the family realizes how hard it actually is to help someone. And those children go through that over and over again, and it gets harder every time.

"Yes, getting a child into Right Zone is nothing to sneeze at, and I won't deny that I may be able to leverage that into significant funding. But I'd also be lying if I didn't admit that getting into Right Zone and segueing into a career in music is very likely the best chance she's got. I mean, Kiara told me how she was able to work out how to make a recognizable melody within an hour of first getting her hands on your guitar. That is _not_ a normal level of talent, and if it's nurtured in a place designed for that... That girl could genuinely go far."

"I know that," Tao whispered, and Catra could almost see his ears and tail drooping at the admission. "I just... I want her to be okay. I don't mind if it's somewhere else, I just need to know that she won't just be... Discarded. Like a broken string."

That's when Catra finally had enough.

"I'll do it."

Both adults jumped as Catra came around the corner and stood next to Tao, staring Alder square in the face. "You said I have a chance, right? I'll do it."

"Catra-!" Tao started to protest, but stopped and took a deep breath, crouching down and putting a hand on her shoulder. Flashing a dirty look to Alder, he gave her a reassuring smile, even if it shivered a little around the edge. "Listen… If this is what you want to do, that's fine. But I need to be sure that you're doing it because _you_ want to, not because one of us says it's a good idea."

"It's not like mama's family is ever coming for me," Catra shrugged, ignoring the resulting flinch, ignoring the rawness in her own lungs as she admitted it out loud for the first time. "And what he-"

(She jerked her head at Alder, who looked like he wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground at that moment.)

"-said makes sense, right? Who's gonna want a kid who wakes up screaming every other night?"

Tao stared at her now, at a loss for words, and years later Catra would recognize exactly what he was going through in that moment: staring at a child being forced by the world to grow up far too quickly just to survive. Just to keep their head above water.

But in the present, she met his gaze unflinchingly, refusing to allow even her mentor's distress to affect her. "But if this 'Right Zone' wants me, even if it's just for what I can do... Then I’ll take it. I'll _do_ it."

His eyes searched hers for a long minute, looking for any hint of doubt. Catra gave him none.

"All right," Tao said finally, breaking the eye contact to rub the back of his neck and sigh heavily. "All right. If that's what you really want, Catra, then I'll help you get there."

He climbed to his feet, putting one hand on her shoulder as he faced Alder. "How long do we have?"

"Until the end of summer. Ordinarily you would have to submit an audition tape, but apparently in the cases of the very young they prefer to send agents to conduct testing in person. That way they can be sure there is no chicanery or outside interference from adults, at least in the performance itself. If she passes, then she will be enrolled at Right Zone at the start of the school year."

"Do I have your permission to focus on this?"

"Do what you need to do, Tao."

Tao's smile was brittle when he looked down at Catra. She didn't smile back, merely set her shoulders and refused to back down even as questions and doubts swirled in her head.

"All right, kiddo. I'll show you how to make some noise."

\----------

The next few months passed by in a blur as the two of them focused on getting Catra as ready as she possibly could be for the audition. The rules were as follows: at least three minutes, played primarily by or adapted to the instrument of the student's choice, no outside interference from adults during the test. It would just be Catra and the two agents.

"So what kind of song do you want to do?"

Catra thought about it, fangs worrying at her lower lip. "What about that song you played? Back on that first day, I mean."

"Summer of '69? Hmm..." He scratched at his jaw with a claw. "It is a good song for beginners... But if we were to translate the keyboard section and include that in, it could really help you stand out from the competition."

They decided against her singing, since she was even less trained in that and would distract too much from her guitar work. But that didn't stop the two of them from softly singing along as they sat going over the sheet music, or listening to the song on Tao's stereo so Catra could get a feel for the keyboard section and begin working out how to mesh that in (Tao didn't leave her to her own devices, of course; it was just a test to see what she could come up with on her own.)

_"Oh, when I look back now/That summer seemed to last forever/And if I had the choice/Yeah, I'd always want to be there/Those were the best days of my life."_

\----------

She passed.

\----------

On the first week of August, ten months after her parents' deaths and three months before her sixth birthday, Catra Leandros stood in front of Right Zone Academy of Arts with nothing more than the clothes on her back, a hope for the future, and a single full-sized guitar.

_"I want you to have this," Tao held out his guitar to her as the two said their goodbyes in front of the cab that would take Catra to the airport, and from there to a small town outside of the city of Bright Moon. To Right Zone._

_Catra shook her head, remembering the fond smile on Tao's face as he strummed on the guitar. Before she worked up the nerve to approach him. Before all this happened. "Tao, I can't-"_

_"It's okay. I want you to have this. It's big for you right now, but you'll grow into it. And besides," He took a shaky breath, squeezing her shoulder as he looked at her one last time. "I want you to remember me."_

_Catra's stomach clenched at that and she tackled him, arms wrapped around his mid-section. Tao let out an "oof" in surprise, but he held her back. Just for a minute._

_"I'll remember you," Words muffled by his shirt, she whispered. "I promise."_

_Her new guitar secure in its canvas bag across her back, Catra waved until Tao was out of sight of the cab, before sitting back down and bawling._

Now, with Tao's guitar a comforting weight against her back, Catra followed one of the two agents who had conducted her test through the halls of Right Zone, passing by currently empty classrooms. The place was eerily quiet.

Catching her looking, the agent (whose name tag read "Grizzlor") said, "Since this place has so many kids in all different age groups it's impractical to try to teach general education here. Starting Wednesday, you'll attend school in town three days a week to get your regular learning--which is where the others are now--then spend the other three days studying music here with the other guitar players. Sundays are free, so do with that what you will."

Catra nodded, not even sure what to say in response. But Grizzlor seemed to accept that, grunting an affirmation and turning forward again. They reached a tall, sturdy black door, and he knocked. "It's me. I've got the last of the new cadets here."

"Well, don't waste my time. Get in here," A terse voice said from the other side, and an instant cold sweat broke out across Catra's skin beneath the fur. She clutched tightly at the strap of her guitar case, trying to make herself as small as possible.

Because she _knew_ that voice, knew it in the way she knew that the shadows in the corner of her room back in the orphanage had no sway over her, not when the _real_ shadows were all in her head. In her nightmares. In her screams.

But that was impossible, right?

The door swung open, and sitting at the desk was a tall, gaunt woman, dressed in a severe-looking dark red dress that left only her head exposed. Her ears were pointed, her dark hair tied back into a tight bun, but Catra knew that if it were ever undone it would flow like _shadows_.

Olive eyes, so pale they were almost sickly, locked on them and in that moment Catra was certain.

It was her.

"Care to explain what took you so long, Grizzlor?"

The big man shrugged, shifting his weight awkwardly from side to side. "Not a lot of pickings this year. This one was near the bottom of the list when I went to check."

"I _hope_ you don't mean to imply that you accepted this... child merely because she was a last resort."

That honey sweet tone, dripping with barely concealed malice, had chills running up and down Catra's spine. She tried to swallow, but couldn't seem to get past the knot in her throat. _Don't show fear. You know it only makes it worse when you show her fear._

"No ma'am," Grizzlor hastened to say beside her. "She definitely has the skills. She's playing guitar at an intermediary level after only half a year of tutoring. It's just... Well..."

He paused, rubbing at his neck, and out of the corner of her eye Catra saw him look at her as if to say 'Sorry, kid' before continuing.

"She was at the bottom of the list because we know how you feel... About her kind."

Cold clarity settled over Catra as the woman looked at her fully for the first time in the entire conversation, looking her up and down before humming almost dismissively.

"Yes, well... I suppose even subpar materials can produce the right notes with a little... Fine-tuning."

Catra flinched.

"Regardless, I will not appreciate it if you inconvenience me like this again, Grizzlor. Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes, Ms. Weaver."

"Good. Now leave me, and show the new student to her quarters."

"Uh... Ma'am?"

"_What_." The woman hissed, a sound that would make any Magicat proud, and _absolutely_ get Catra skinned alive if she ever mentioned it.

"It's just, uh..." Grizzlor scratched awkwardly at his furry jawline with one finger as he kept his eyes trained on a water spot on the ceiling, rather than the terrifying woman in front of him. "There's only _one_ room left."

The woman at the desk paused, then let out a cruel chuckle. "Do you honestly believe my prize pupil would allow _this_ to distract her? You have your orders, Grizzlor. Now go."

They both hastily turned to exit the office, Grizzlor moving even faster than Catra on her jelly legs, before a single sentence--almost an afterthought--brought her up short.

"Oh, and... _Catra_, was it?"

Despite the screaming panic echoing through her brain, Catra managed to force herself to stop and turn back to the desk, almost on autopilot. _Almost like magic._ "Y-yes ma'am?"

Ms. Weaver gave her a smile that most assuredly was _not_ a smile. "Welcome to Right Zone. Do not disappoint us."

\----------

Neither she nor Grizzlor said anything else to each other as he lead her up the stairs to the third floor student dormitories, guiding her to the end of the corridor and pointing at a single door, before turning on his heel and marching off. A sign next to the door simply read 'A. Eternia' with a blank space beneath.

With nothing to stop her, Catra pushed her way in.

The room beyond was surprisingly threadbare for someone that woman called her "prized pupil"; a desk, a bunk bed, a small stack of books on music theory (dumbed down just a bit for kids, but still there) stacked on the floor next to the bed. That, plus the still rumpled sheets of the bottom bunk, told Catra that she'd be sleeping up top. Which was fine with her; Magicats did better with heights than most other races did.

Checking the small closet quickly revealed an assortment of white shirts with red sleeves, the Right Zone initials emblazoned on the breast, along with grey pants and a couple of more normal outfits (probably for those Sunday free days), including a cozy looking red jacket.

Before she'd left, Alder had explained that each student at Right Zone received a small quarterly stipend from the government to spend on things like personal clothing, books, and entertainment beyond that provided by the school itself. Once her paperwork cleared, Catra would be able to go along on any of the monthly excursions into town--supervised, of course; at least until the kids turned sixteen--to get her own supplies. Until then, presumably, she'd be stuck with the uniform or the clothes she was currently wearing (red t-shirt and green cargo pants. No shoes.)

Satisfied that she'd explored everything there was to see, and that the room was more or less secure (_not like that'd stop Weaver if she came knocking_) Catra clambered up the wooden ladder to the top bunk with Tao's guitar and settled herself in the corner, back pressed against the wall.

_"It doesn't matter what they do to us, you know," Her friend said to her, reaching out to put a hand on Catra's shoulder where she sat hurting and miserable on their bed. "You look out for me, I look out for you. Nothing really bad can happen as long as we have each other."_

_Catra's voice quivered as they leaned into each other. "You promise?"_

_"I promise," The other girl said, and held her just for a moment._

"Hey, are you okay?"

Catra hissed as she came awake to a hand shaking her, causing the other girl to jump back with a startled yelp. Which was a bad move, since “back” was the edge of the bunk.

Moving without even thinking about it, Catra grabbed the girl's shirt and hauled her back forward until she collapsed against Catra's mattress.

"Wow, thanks for saving me," The girl said, and looked up at Catra with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a gap toothed smile. A face that Catra would recognize even more than the one in the mirror. "Sorry I scared you."

"You didn't scare me!" Still processing this turn of events--because of course, if Weaver is real why wouldn't she be too? _Because good things don't happen in my life, so shut up!_\--Catra blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Why are you in my room?"

"Duh. It's my room too," <strike>Her friend</strike> _The girl_ smiled, extending a hand. "My name's Adora. What's yours?"

_So that's what's been missing. A name. Your name._

Adora, huh?

Catra watched her warily, tail lashing back and forth as she thought it over. She'd already had a decent preview of where this road lead. Was it even worth following it again?

Was that ever really in question?

She clasped Adora’s hand in hers.

“Catra.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was intended to be a short intro intended just to get Catra to the Fright Zone and start the plot off proper. As you can see... that didn't happen. So I'll have a better estimate on how many chapters this'll be by the end of the next one. As usual, I'd love to hear what you guys think, and have a good one.
> 
> Also, weird fact: C'yra's stunt is actually recommended advice I got from a survival guide a few years back about what to do if your car gets hit into a body of water. The more you know.


	2. Patience First Comes To The Bones (Before It Roots In The Heart)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra acquires some patience, gets her first taste of showmanship, embraces the cathartic power of anger, and learns when to give in; Adora gets a taste of rage and learns that protection isn't always a physical thing, and Shadow Weaver gets a call out and does what she does best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. This chapter was basically one big "before s4 destroys me" last hurrah, and appropriately enough we get into some really heavy stuff here. Which is a fancy way of saying MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING: Shadow Weaver commences her abuse of Catra in this chapter, and while I did my best to convey the horror without getting too graphic or--God forbid--fetishizing the scene, it's still really intense and fucked up on an emotional level and Catra ends up dissociating HARD afterwards, so if you're someone who has dealt with physical abuse before and isn't currently in a good place mentally, I'm going to ask you to consider skipping the section immediately after the line: "You've really done it now, kid." A lot of it (especially the mind games) is based on my own experiences as an ex-child abuse victim, but still: be safe.
> 
> That said, I can promise now that this has been established that we won't be hitting any scenes that intense or upsetting again in this fic, and immediately after we get a dose of good 'ol fluff followed by five pages of hurt/comfort, so I hope all y'all can at least enjoy that. Friendly reminder that if the dialogue seems a little too good for a pair of kids, it's also being filtered through adult!Catra's memories, but the gist is more or less accurate. Happy She-ra Day, everyone!
> 
> (Also, a certain classic rock solo plays an important role in this chapter, and I highly recommend checking out an acoustic video on youtube to get the full gravity of what I'm trying to convey here about Catra and Adora's abilities as musicians. Just sayin'. ;] )

The thing about being around Adora in reality (as opposed to the brief snapshots of her dreams) is that it is so _easy_ to get lost in her rhythm.

The other girl is just so enthusiastic: about life, about being with Catra, and _especially_ about music. It's like she can't turn it off. If she isn't focusing on making music or studying it or learning theory, then she's there gently drawing Catra into her orbit.

"Hey, the library got some new books in. Wanna go check 'em out?"

"You okay? The other cadets aren't bothering you, are they? Just tell me if they do and I'll beat them up!"

"It's been a long day, huh? Wanna hear this new song I learned?"

And in its own weird way it's both comfortable and agitating to be the center of someone's focus like that (especially since Catra had originally wanted to play it cool for a while--this wasn't dream Adora after all, there was no real reason for her to be _this_ at ease around the other girl.) It's very distracting. So much so that it takes about a week for Catra to first notice it.

"It" being the way the other students react to Adora.

They're not outwardly mean the way they can be to Catra--like when one of them pulls her ears in the middle of practice and gets a flash of claws at the back of the hand or aims a kick at her in the hall with a malicious snicker--but there's still _something_ there. They'll answer any questions Adora asks freely, sure, and they never, ever ignore her. But any attempts by the other girl to get closer will inevitably result in a hard shutting out.

_"Hey," Adora says to a fawn a few years older than them in the practice room after lessons. The fawn had been strumming on a Spanish guitar and even though the two of them were on acoustic, something about that sequence had caught Adora's attention and made her stop what she was doing, eyes sharp and focused the way she only really got about music. "Can you play that chord sequence again, please?"_

_The fawn complies, going slow so that Adora can really see what she's doing. But when she tries to replicate it herself, she fumbles._

_"Ouch," She mumbles, sticking a finger in her mouth from where the string had cut just a little into her skin, not enough to bleed but enough to sting. "That's really hard. Can you...?"_

_She trails off, obviously not used to asking for real help, and that's when Catra spots it. There's a tightening in the fawn's features, eyes darting to the door and back again, shoulders stiffening in a way that would be nearly imperceptible to a human, but not to a Magicat._

_"Don't worry about it," The fawn says, patting Adora on the shoulder in a faux-conciliatory manner. "Just keep practicing and you'll get it eventually."_

_Adora ends up spending the rest of the evening trying until the practice room closes and they have to put away the instruments, and she remains frustrated for the rest of the night._

But once she picks up on it, Catra can't _stop_ noticing it. Like she said, they're never outright impolite to Adora and will usually comply with little requests like showing her a sequence of notes or letting her get a peek at the sheet music. But they still hold her at arm’s length beyond that.

It just doesn't make any sense to Catra. Sure, part of it might be that she and Adora are the youngest ones here, but there's still a handful of kids only a year or two older than them so it's not _that_ weird. And Adora's just so... _Adora_. Polite and good natured and always seeking the best out of people and loving music with all her heart. Even if a tiny part of Catra relishes having so much of that attention focused solely on her, it feels just... _Off_ to watch other people drawing away from that warmth. Almost unnatural.

But she figures it out the first time Ms. Weaver comes by for one of her "inspections."

Catra had been sitting on the top bunk with Tao's guitar, carefully checking it over for cracks in the finish or weakness in the joints. Autumn was starting to set in, after all, and she'd be damned if she let Tao's parting gift be permanently damaged before she even got the chance to play it properly. Adora, meanwhile, had been sat at her (_their_, Catra reminded herself) desk looking over some sheet music and humming softly, tapping her bare foot against the carpet.

To Catra, that was the _second_ clue that something was off; while Adora--like any good musician--frequently used her foot to keep time while playing, in this case the rhythm was all wrong. It was too fast, too erratic. It didn't match up.

The _first_ clue had been when Adora arrived in their room with a practice guitar in tow. Most students at Right Zone wouldn't own their own instruments until they were much older and could use part of their stipend to purchase what they wanted from the small shop in town; partly because it was more or less expected that they would go through several different instruments in their time here unless they found one that really clicked and partly just because good quality instruments were expensive and it required planning around their monthly needs and impulses to afford one.

Catra was actually in a small minority of underage students who already owned their own, and from what she gathered most of them had acquired theirs in much the same way she did; either through inheritance or as gifts from former mentors. Even Adora, despite Weaver's apparent favoritism, still had to go down to the practice room like everyone else and they hardly _ever_ got to remove the valuable instruments for obvious reasons.

So the fact that there currently was a practice guitar sitting on Adora's bunk? Pretty big giveaway that something was up.

But Adora seemed distracted, so Catra waited patiently and continued to inspect her guitar. She was just finishing up by running a wet cloth over the finish when the door swung open and Weaver stalked in.

Catra froze, and at the desk Adora instantly snapped from what she now recognized as suppressed agitation to complete and total _focus_.

"And how is my prized pupil doing this week?" Jesus Christ, how the hell could this woman make even benign compliments sound like subtle death threats?

"I'm doing well, Ms. Weaver," Adora answered carefully, with none of the openness that characterized her interactions with other students, and especially Catra. "I've been having a little difficulty with the third variation of Sor's Op. 9, but I'm sure I'll have it figured out soon."

"Very well," Weaver _purred,_ and Catra's claws reflexively tensed. _Stay in your own lane, you decrepit hag! That's my territory!_ "We'll save that one for next time. Now... Show me what else you've learned."

Catra watched and listened with full vigilance as Adora ran through the things they had been learning in Grizzlor's guitar classes this past week (that had been a surprise, given the man's overall demeanor, but in hindsight it made sense--sending a music teacher to evaluate a musician) as well as some other pieces she'd clearly been studying on her own, several of them surprisingly complex for a six year old. Not that Catra had any room to judge in that quarter, but still.

"Very good," Weaver said when Adora was finished, and even though Adora at first shrank away a little as she reached out, she still learned forward just a bit into the touch as that bony hand smoothed away a lock of hair that had escaped from her ponytail. "You're doing well, Adora. But you need to remember that natural talent will only get you so far in this world. It has to be coupled with effort, and you mustn't let anyone else-"

And here, her eyes _locked_ on Catra in the top bunk, and Catra had to force down the urge to snarl in response.

"-drag you down. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Ms. Weaver," Adora responded, and while she was just as deferential as before, Catra could still detect an undercurrent of disappointment beneath the words, a slight dip in the shoulders that had moments ago been held proudly.

"Very well. I will notify you of my next inspection. I expect great things from you, Adora."

Then she turned on her booted heels and stalked out, shutting the door emphatically behind her.

And maybe, if her dreams hadn't already given her a warning as to the woman's true nature, Catra might have been jealous to overhear those hollow words of praise. But watching Adora standing there, seemingly lost in her own world with none of her usual vibrant energy, all she felt instead was an intense and lasting _hatred_ aimed squarely at the old bitch.

"Hey, are you all right?"

Even though she called softly down at her, Adora jumped, glancing up at Catra as if she'd forgotten she was there (and in all likelihood that was exactly what had happened.) "Oh! Yeah, I'm fine. Totally fine, haha. I just need to do better, that's all."

Catra's heart sank at that. Even though she had only known this Adora for a week, she had already witnessed first-hand how hard the girl worked. She was always the first one in and the last out, asking pointed questions about technique and details with a focus and precision that was well beyond her years. Frequently she played until her fingers began to blister, before rubbing in some ointment and switching to singing long enough for them to _just_ heal and immediately jumping back to her guitar work.

The two of them were the youngest students here, and already Adora worked harder than most of the graduating class.

Even to a fellow workaholic like Catra, it was supremely messed up.

But despite the insight her dreams brought with them, Catra was still just six years old. She didn't know what to say to make this better, to _fix_ this, and even if she did... From Adora's perspective she'd only known Catra for a week. Even if the connection between them had been nigh instantaneous, it didn't outweigh the time she had been trapped under Weaver's thumb.

Yet.

So instead, she took another route. "Wanna learn a new song?"

Adora practically lit up at that. "Sure!"

And Catra couldn't help but smile back, even if her heart still ached bitter-sweetly at all she was now aware of. "Ok. Just give me a second, and we can go."

Zipping Tao's guitar into its bag, she forced open the window to their room and--using her claws--swung out onto the elm tree that grew beside it, swinging upwards before planting her feet on the limb and jumping up to the next until she was level with the building's roof. Hopping on, she stashed the guitar at what she hoped was a safe enough distance from the building's radiator that the cold wouldn't effect it, but it also wouldn't heat up so quickly or unevenly as to damage the instrument. There were no locks on the doors at Right Zone, and she'd heard enough rumors of personal effects being stolen that there was no way in hell she was leaving Tao's guitar unattended. It wasn't a good long term solution, especially with the notorious Bright Moon wet winter on the horizon, but it would have to do until she could come up with a new one.

Task completed, she gripped the lip of the building with her dominant hand and swung over and back through the window to find Adora waiting patiently--albeit with a new sparkle in her eyes and a nervous energy thrumming through her--having already witnessed this ritual several times before. "We good to go?"

Catra couldn't help but laugh at the transparent eagerness. "Yeah, nerd. We're good to go."

The borrowed practice guitar in hand, they made their way down to the first floor practice room, which remained open every evening right until curfew. There were some other students milling around and plucking away at their own instruments as well, but not so many that they wouldn't be able to focus on each other.

After picking out a practice guitar of her own, Catra lead Adora by the hand to a quiet corner and the two sat cross-legged as Catra tested the instrument. Finding it to her liking, she told the other girl, "Ok, this is a song that my mentor Tao taught me before I came to Right Zone. It's different from what they teach around here, so I think you'll like it."

Speech given, she began slowly strumming the opening chords to "Summer of '69," singing softly under her breath so it wouldn't interfere with Adora's attention. _"I got my first real six-string/Bought it at the five and dime/Played it 'til my fingers bled/It was the summer of '69..."_

She halted just before the crescendo, leaning forward, prepared to show Adora the notes to use on her guitar.

But to Catra's surprise, Adora instead brought her hands up and began echoing the tune back at her. _Perfectly_, no guiding notes or instructions needed beyond the purity of the sound itself.

Just like that, a light bulb went off in Catra's head, her face stretching into a delighted grin. "No way!"

Adora's playing halted, and she looked up at Catra in surprise. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Catra replied excitedly, grabbing her own guitar and spinning around so that her back was to Adora. "Play something. Something you studied on your own, something we haven't covered in class."

Her frown obvious even in the absence of words (in the way Catra's hearing, heightened by her closing her eyes in anticipation, picked up the subtle shift of her position as she obeyed) Adora began a rolling guitar section. Probably something classical, the nerd.

Eyes still closed, Catra brought her own hands up and echoed back. _Perfectly._

When she turned back around, Adora's grin matched hers as she seemingly had to force herself not to tackle Catra like an overeager puppy. "You can do it too!"

Catra nodded, chest and fur both puffing up proudly in response to her own excitement. "S'how I got here."

"Ms. Weaver calls it "perfect pitch." The technical stuff's a little complicated, but it basically means we can play back anything we hear without a guiding note to start off. Apparently it's super rare. I've never met anyone else who could do it too!"

"Well, you have now," Catra laughed.

They watched each other in silence, just basking in their newfound commonality until Catra, with a teasing smirk, played off a few notes of "Bad Company" (another of Tao's favorites.) Mimicking the expression, Adora played it back before seguing into something that was definitely classical.

They never did get around to teaching Adora "Summer of '69"--at least not that day--but they were both feeling much better by the time curfew came around and they had to leave.

\----------

The dreams had been unusually kind to Catra over that first month. They still came, yes, but they were tame enough that she hadn't woken up screaming or crying. A bit of whimpering here and there, a few times jolting awake hyperventilating and soaked in sweat, but nothing spectacular.

Yeah, in retrospect, she really should have been expecting it when the full-on nightmares made their grand reentry into her life.

_She was standing in the same spooky dark room, while the woman--Weaver--stood across from her staring into a glowing pool of dark water (the paradox somehow making perfect sense.)_

_The first thing Catra noticed was that she seemed to be older in this dream. Much older, if the way she was almost eye level with the old hag had anything to say about it._

_But the second, more concerning detail was that unlike the previous dreams... She wasn't in control of this one. She just watched, passive, as her older self leaned against the cold metal wall with her arms folded across her chest and one leg bent against the wall in a way that just screamed forced indifference. The only tell was the way her tail lashed back and worth, puffed out a little at the end.  
_

_"For the last time," Weaver began. "Where is Adora?"_

_Before she even had time to process that bombshell of a statement, her other self groaned back. "For the last time, I don't know. You think I keep her on a leash?"_

_"I know you're lying," Weaver volleyed back, staring at the other Catra even as she looked away. "You two are close. She would never depart without telling you."_

_"Then I guess she let us both down, huh?"_

_It was spoken pithily, with exhausted and bitter resignation, and all Catra could think in the moment was 'What the hell is going on here?!'_

_"Have it your way," Weaver continued, turning back to the pool. "I already know where she is. We've been tracking her."_

_"Uhh... Then why did you ask me?" The other Catra embodied her thoughts perfectly, though not without a dismissive gesture of her hand that this Catra would never have been brave enough to make._

_"Because you are going to bring her back," Weaver demanded, the word 'you' laced with a level of vitriol she was very familiar with._

_"Tch… I don't think so," This other, braver Catra shot back, turning to walk away, and all the current Catra had time to think was 'Maybe since I'm not in control this time it won't hur-' before that red lightning crackled into volatile life across her skin and--oh FUCK, it still hurts! She briefly synchronized with the other Catra, gritting her teeth and dropping her ears as the pain arched through her._

_"Your insolence will not protect her," Weaver's voice, sickly sweet as candied poison, drifted in her ears even as her hands slid onto Catra's shoulders and the lightning temporarily ceased. "You will do as I ask."_

_"Oh yeah? Or what?" The other Catra managed to say even as the (real? current?) Catra could feel their combined shaking, the hellish fear of having their back to the enemy and no way to run._

_Weaver grabbed them by the jaw and jerked them around to face that horrid mask. "Or you will suffer the consequences in her place."_

_The words echoed momentarily, and then the lightning started up again._

And Catra _howled_ as pain exploded across her entire face, barely even aware of being back in control of her own body as she thrashed around, right up until the moment an awakened and panicked Adora threw on a light switch and she saw that she was lying on the floor of their room. Before she could fully process this, Adora--_her_ Adora--was at her side shaking her. "Catra! Are you okay? You're bleeding!"

So she was, Catra slowly realized as she tasted blood dripping down her face and became more aware of the pain in her nose. "Is it broken?"

Gingerly, Adora reached out and grasped Catra's nose as lightly as she could--she still winced--maneuvering it to see her reaction. "I don't think so. You're still bleeding a lot, though. What happened?"

"Nightmare," Catra mumbled, but before Adora could do anything other than furrow her brow in response, the door swung open and one of the teachers poked their head in.

"Heard some shouting. You kids all right?"

"Fine," Catra cut in before Adora could say anything. "Just fell off the top bunk in my sleep."

"All right," The teacher said with a stifled yawn. "Keep your head tilted back until the nose bleeding stops. Might wanna consider switching bunks in the future, though."

With that pointed bit of adult wisdom imparted, they shut the door and trundled back down the hall.

The resulting silence was just awkward, both of them sitting there looking anywhere but at the other, not sure how to broach the subject sitting between them with all the sophistication of a fully-grown elephant in a bird bath.

"Does that happen often?" But, well, leave it to Adora to know just how to break a perfectly good stillness.

Catra shrugged, not knowing how else to respond. "I have nightmares pretty often. They're usually not that bad, though."

It was a half-truth rather than an outright lie--after all, it was hard to top face planting straight off your own bunk bed trying to escape the pain of your own night terrors. But she still side-stepped the question underneath the question, because right now she _needed_ Adora to let it lie. She didn't know what she'd do if her friend decided she was freaky and pulled away from her.

_"You two are close,"_ The other Weaver whispered like an accusation and Catra squeezed her eyes shut...

Only to reopen them as something dabbed gently at the blood on her face; Adora, flashing a brittle smile Catra's way as she grabbed another tissue from the box she'd produced from one of the desk drawers. Catra watched her, chest tight with some feeling she couldn't really explain but felt deeply in the very pit at the center of her chest.

"There we go," Adora eventually murmured as she finally set aside a mostly white tissue. "I think it's stopped now."

Catra sniffed, clearing the blood from her nose as Adora stood up and turned off the light--though with Catra's night sight she could still see perfectly, and reached out to take Adora's hand while the girl in question squinted and tried to adjust to the sudden darkness.

"Thanks," Adora said as Catra guided her back to her bunk, but when she tried to pull away, Adora held on. "Um... You could stay down here, if you want to."

Her own night sight must have been kicking in, because she hastened to add as Catra opened her mouth to say 'No,' "Just for tonight, I mean. I don't know about you, but I don't really wanna have to wake up again if the dream comes back. It's bacon burrito day tomorrow, and it's first come first serve, so we should try not to sleep in."

It was a blatant attempt at deflection through weak humor, and they both knew it, but Catra's chest _ached_ again when she saw that blatant look of _want_ on Adora's face. "All right."

Adora let out a huge breath as she sat back and scooted up her bunk, tugging Catra along with her. After a minute or so to negotiate the placement of their limbs, they finally settled on Adora on her back and Catra curled--as she was wont to do--protectively across her lower legs.

_If Weaver saw us right now, she'd skin me with a clam shell,_ Catra thought with an internal chuckle. _Choke on that, you wrinkly old hag._

Then she drew in a sharp breath as one of Adora's hands wandered down to her hair, hardly daring to even move as it began carding through the rough tangles. But she couldn't help the reflexive 'mrrp' when a fingertip grazed one of her ears. The hand stopped, moving back until Adora paused and seemed to realize what she'd brushed against.

"Is this okay?" She whispered.

Catra thought about it, remembering how the other kids pulled at her ears or tried to stomp her tail. "Yeah. Just be gentle... They're really sensitive at the tips."

Adora nodded, and then her fingertips were back on Catra's ears and all of the tension bled out of her at once. It had been so long... Aside from Tao comforting her after her meltdown, the last person to stroke her ears had been her mother, just a few hours before that final <strike>fatal</strike> _fateful_ drive.

She couldn't have stopped the resulting purrs even if she tried, a disappointed mewl escaping when the motions paused. Opening one eye, she looked up at Adora, whose mouth opened in surprise. "Is it weird?"

That shook her out of it. "No... Not weird. Just... different. Different in a good way."

Catra could live with that.

Adora kept up the ministrations until they both fell asleep, and for the rest of that night at least, the nightmares stayed away.

\----------

It was almost exactly three weeks from Catra's sixth birthday and a little over a month into her stay at Right Zone when Weaver finally decided to reveal her true colors.

It was a Saturday, and she'd been making the rounds most of the day, standing in the corner of classrooms like the fucking grim reaper himself making notes and checking the progress of each class, and although Catra tried not to let it get to her... Yeah, it was getting to her. Didn't help that Adora--perched next to her and occasionally bumping against Catra with her knee in a manner that was obviously deliberate--was also feeling anxious. She was fidgeting too much, fingertips drumming against the side of her guitar with nervous energy and Catra wished they were alone so she could ask Adora what _exactly_ she knew about what was about to happen.

She got her answer soon enough when Grizzlor called an end to regular lessons a full half an hour early and began scrawling the names of several pieces on the board. "All right, class, you know the drill. Ms. Weaver's here to check on your progress. We're gonna go up the line in order so you can all demonstrate what you've learned, so pick one of the songs from the board and show her what you've got."

Catra scrutinized the options on hand. "Greensleeves" was too slow for her tastes and definitely wouldn't impress, Bach's "Minuet in G Minor" was getting a little closer but still didn't feel quite right... Then she zeroed in on "Asturias" down at the bottom of the list.

_Got it,_ she thought triumphantly, especially as Adora nudged her with a knowing smile. They'd been going over that one together in between Catra teaching her how to play rock songs (which Adora _loved_.) It was a lightning fast piece and considered a high intermediate composition, and the middle section was intricate as all hell. Catra _adored_ playing it, loved rising to the challenge of the piece, and as she matched Adora's grin with one of her own she knew exactly what she was going to do.

"I'll take the start if you'll take the middle?" Adora murmured excitedly under her breath and Catra nodded in return.

As much as Weaver herself absolutely terrified her, it was difficult for Catra to sit still as they slowly worked up and down the three rows of five to reach the back row--where the two of them sat in the middle between a large goat-boy and a purple furred girl who seemed to be the same species as Grizzlor. Her dreams had already shown Catra that winning Weaver's respect was nigh impossible, but getting to show off what she'd been practicing with Adora... That was something well worth having.

Adora's turn came first, and she stood up and worked her way up and down the opening of Asturias, tossing a grin Catra's way as her fingers practically flew across the frets with typical Adora flare. Catra didn't even have to pretend to join in on the applause when she finished.

"Good job, Adora," Grizzlor praised as Adora wiped the sweat from her brow. "But are you sure you don't want to go into the middle as well?"

It was obvious politicking in front of Weaver, and it played right into Adora and Catra's hands. "Actually, Catra's got dibs on the next section."

"Really?" Grizzlor raised an eyebrow over his clipboard. "All right then. Catra, show us what you've got."

Catra grinned. "With pleasure."

And she started in on her own section, picking up where Adora left off. The middle section was slower than the opening, yes, but it was complicated--with multiple lightning fast switchovers that kept the player (and audience) from getting too comfortable or complacent at any one moment. Bipolar in the best of ways.

Catra had just started to really lose herself in the sound, leaning in close to the neck of the guitar, when a low hiss forced its way into her headspace. "_Enough_."

Catra missed, and her claw caught on the bottom string in just the wrong way. It snapped, and there was a white hot burning as all the displaced energy lashed back and sliced across her lower lip and chin.

It _hurt_, and Catra tasted blood once more, but it was Adora's yelp of alarm beside her and Grizzlor shoving his way through the other students that held her attention. At least, until Weaver heaved a put-upon sigh and stood beside the big man as he inspected the laceration.

"Let that be a lesson to you. You cannot simply piggyback off of Adora's skill and expect it to work just the same. Not with your... mediocre talent."

"Ms. Weaver...!" Adora shouted in protest, but Catra's vision had already whited out with pure, incandescent _rage_ as she shoved Grizzlor's hands away from her, still clutching onto the guitar in a death grip.

"Oh yeah?" She snarled back, spitting blood and baring her coppery teeth at her tormentor. "How 'bout I show you something Adora doesn't know yet?"

Then she busted out the hardest piece Tao had ever challenged her with: the solo to "Hotel California."

It wasn't a perfect rendition on her part, being translated to acoustic first and having to play without her sixth string second. And even Tao himself had admitted that the test was actually sort of a joke on his part; he'd gotten a little alarmed at how fast Catra was tearing through his tutelage and found the toughest solo he himself could easily manage as a way to set some perspective. It had worked... For a while, at least.

He hadn't really expected her to _keep_ at it, though. In fact, if she hadn't already memorized "Summer of '69" down to the vibrations at that point, she would have considered going whole hog on the Eagles for her audition. That solo had literally everything an intermediate guitar player needed to know wrapped into one bending, vibrato-laden package and Catra _loved_ it.

But all those long months of work were rendered totally worth it so see the looks on everyone's faces as she proceeded to jam her way through that solo with blood dripping down her chin and the biggest "fuck you" grin aimed _directly_ at Weaver.

At least until the woman reached down and wrenched the guitar right out of Catra's hands mid-strum.

"Your insolence proves nothing more than your complete lack of respect," Weaver snarled, hands shaking on the neck of the guitar like she wanted nothing more than to beat Catra with it. "I don't know what kind of stunt you pulled to impress our scouting team, but here we teach _real_ music."

And Catra finally had enough, raising her own voice to match. "_You_ recognized it. And _all_ music is real music, you decrepit old bitch!"

A mayfly's dying breath would have been loud in the silence of that room. Weaver's eyes narrowed, and Catra knew that even though she was about to be in a world of hurt, she had won this one.

Carrion comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

"Grizzlor," Weaver said, icy as the grave. "Run the rest of the students through drills for the remainder of the class time. You..."

She stared at Catra, and if it hadn't been for her dreams preparing her for this moment, she would have been taken aback by the sheer amount of hate in those olive eyes. As it was, despite the chill of danger going up her spine, it was at least nice to finally be on level ground. To know exactly where she stood with regards to the woman of her nightmares.

"Get that wound checked in the infirmary and then report to my office for... _disciplinary_ measures."

Then she turned and stalked away, slamming the door behind her.

"Well, shit," Grizzlor muttered as he completely forgot about the baker's dozen or so other kids in the room. "You've really done it now, kid."

\----------

Adora had wanted to go with Catra, but Grizzlor was too savvy to let two instances of insubordination pass under his watch and blocked her. So all Adora could do was squeeze Catra's hand one last time--tight--as she took the guitar from her with a shaky smile and Catra turned to go to the infirmary.

She got lucky; her fur had protected her from needing stitches and apparently head wounds just always bled like a bitch. But well, the bad part was that there wasn't a whole lot the nurse could _do_ besides slap on some Neosporin over the bloody scab and trim down the fur around the cut so it hopefully wouldn't get infected. Unlike humans, they couldn't even apply a butterfly bandage to hold the edges shut.

Of course, a human would probably be getting stitches, so Catra chose to suck it up and accept the hand she'd been dealt. Which also came with the caveat of living with the hand she'd just dealt _herself._

_What was that old saying Mom used to be fond of? 'Damned if I do, damned if I don't?'_

_Damned it is then._

She knocked on the door.

"Come in."

One last breath to steel herself for what she knew was coming, and Catra slipped inside Weaver's office. The place was just as cold and impersonal as she remembered from that terrifying first encounter: mostly blank walls, a single visitor's chair, a massive ebony desk flanked by a pair of bookcases. She let her mind sift through it all to avoid focusing on the real reason she was here.

_Just breathe. It'll all be over soon._

"Have a seat." Weaver sat behind the desk, signing documents in a flowing hand, and didn't even look up or address Catra beyond the perfunctory command.

"I'll stand," Catra replied, because the thought of having to play nice with this woman made her feel even sicker than the waiting.

"Have it your way," Weaver countered, and Catra had to force herself to keep her head held high, her posture relaxed and devil may care. Like the other Catra in her dreams. "You're already here for insubordination. But by all means, keep digging yourself deeper."

Clicking the pen shut and setting it aside, she steepled her fingers and looked at Catra over them, and in the glare of the overhead lights those eyes almost seemed _white_ for a moment. "Can you tell me why you are here, Catra?"

She answered question for question with a shrug. "Insubordination?"

"Cute. But it's a decent start. What else?"

"Calling you a decrepit old bitch?"

"Getting warmer."

"Stealing away your favorite?"

To her surprise, that actually drew a wicked little chuckle away from her interrogator. "Oh, you're just as naive as Adora if you really believe that."

Catra's smile was a twisted, ugly thing, a reminder to this woman why predators displayed their teeth. "Stick around. I may just surprise you."

"I highly doubt that," Sighing in that _'How burdensome'_ manner, Weaver straightened. "But just to save us both some time with these little games, I'll just say it. You're here for challenging my authority--and yes, for calling me a decrepit bitch, though I assure you I have heard far worse in my time--_and_ for doing it in front of the other students as well. I think we can both agree that I wouldn't be much of a headmaster if I let such an insult go by unpunished."

_Well, you're half right._ Catra bit down hard on the inside of her mouth to keep that one from getting free.

"And if you wish to have a long and productive career at Right Zone Academy of Arts, you will have to start making... _Reparations_. After all, we didn't _have_ to take you in and even if our glorious government is footing much of your bill... Well, trouble like yours comes with a price."

"So how do I start paying these... Dues?" _Two can play at the euphemism game, lady._

"You can start by standing against the wall to your left and putting both hands against it."

_And here_ _we go._ One last deep breath before she obeyed, marching to the wall and bracing both arms against it in preparation for what was to come. After a long moment of silence, she heard a rattle of keys, followed by a desk drawer sliding open, and just for a moment Catra had the surreal, out-of-context realization that most normal kids didn't have to live through things like this.

Then again, while she was almost certain she had once been a normal kid, the memory of that time was staticky and washed out between two separate (competing) strands of memory. So she pulled, _hard_, at the one that would help her survive this and clung onto it with all her mental might.

_Wonder how she's going to do it._ The part of her brain that couldn't stand the waiting chimed in. _Not like she has freaky paralyzing magic, not in this world. She's gotta actually get up close this time. That’ll be a new one-_

But even that voice was subsumed under a tide of panic and _‘BAD TOUCH BAD TOUCH’_ when a pair of bony hands gripped Catra's shoulders and _squeezed._ "You're going to count."

"Wait, wha-" But then the lash came down against her back, and Catra choked on her own surprised scream, forehead kissing the brick wall as her teeth slammed shut and the air was torn from her lungs. All while a line of fire danced its way down her left shoulder blade to her hip.

"Now, now," Weaver purred in her ear. "You were doing so well just a moment ago. Don't tell me all that bravado of yours was just for show?"

Another blow, this time on the other side of her spine, and Catra choked out. "T-two."

"Try again."

Another. Catra pressed her head further into the unyielding surface of the wall, and told herself that she would _not_ cry out, that she wouldn't give this woman the satisfaction of watching her break. "O-One."

"Very good," Weaver purred again, and the sickly sweetness of that voice made Catra want to curl inside her own skin and never come back out again. "Now let's see you count to ten."

\----------

It ended up being closer to sixteen, when all was said and done; counting both the first two and the times Catra couldn't catch her breath enough to make the count before the next strike landed.

"Well," Weaver said as she put the belt (_so that's what it was_) back into the drawer and locked it again. "Let's hope you've learned a lesson or two about... Insubordination."

Legs shaking and her entire back a mass of pain, Catra could only nod in response as Weaver sat back down and resumed signing documents. Like nothing had even happened.

_And why wouldn't she? _The part of that already knew this woman barked bitterly. _To her, it might as well be as if nothing did happen. It's just another Saturday to her._

She must have stared too long, because Weaver looked up and arched a single, perfectly sculpted brow at her. "You may go."

Things flickered around the edges, like one of her nightmares when she panicked and everything skipped a reel. (_Years down the road, Micah looked at her over the top of his reading glasses and said, "That sounds like dissociation."_) But at the time, Catra didn't know the word; she just knew that one moment her hand was on the doorknob and the next she stood on the landing of the second floor staircase looking out onto the leaf strewn yard and unable to comprehend where point a and point b intersected.

"Catra!" The only voice she wanted to hear snapped her out of it as Adora came jogging up the stairs. "I've been looking all over for you. You missed dinner, you know."

Dinner was at 6:30 every night. Classes ended at five.

Even barring the infirmary and how long she'd been in Weaver's "care"... How much time had she just lost?

Overhead, the bell signaling curfew rang twice. Ding-dong. Ding-dong.

So about four hours. That answered that question.

"Don't worry," Adora was saying as she grabbed Catra's hand and began pulling her upstairs. "I saved you some food. It'll be our secret. I know how scary she can be--Ms. Weaver, I mean. It's okay if you needed to hide."

And that's when all of Catra's half-recovered faculties went screeching into a fiery death crash.

_She doesn't know. Christ on a fucking (thanks, ma!) pogo stick, SHE DOESN'T KNOW._

And again, why should she? Adora was just as fearful of Weaver as Catra was--the way she flinched at every incoming touch was proof enough of that, and even the softest hearted kid knew a predator when she faced it--but she was also the _prize_ pupil. It wouldn't do to damage her, (physically, at least--emotionally it was no holds barred) to do anything that might threaten that coveted talent. Not like Catra.

No, not like Catra.

"Hey," And now Adora was looking at her, so much concern in her big beautiful eyes and Catra wanted to just _scream_ until her lungs gave out, until they filled up with blood and she _drowned_. "Are you okay? You've been really quiet for a while. It's kinda scaring me."

And fuck it all, as much as Catra wanted to scream and flail until her remaining strength gave out and she collapsed into a sobbing mess on the floor, she wanted Adora to keep looking at her with those same innocent eyes even more. So she swallowed down her screams, and nodded as she placed a hand over Adora's on her shoulder, mere inches away from the first of the bruises.

"I'm fine."

(She slept on her side in the top bunk for the next two weeks before she let anything touch her back again.)

\----------

The Sunday after the bruises stopped being tender to the touch and a little less than a week before her sixth birthday was the first time Catra got to go along on one of the monthly trips to the town Right Zone was located on the edge of. One of the staff had handily informed her that her paperwork had finally cleared that morning.

Technically, the trips happened every Sunday, but for logistics' sake the one hundred or so students were divided up into four groups and each assigned a separate week so half the teaching staff could go along with them, splitting into smaller groups so the kids could hit up the stores they wanted while still being supervised. The third Sunday of every month was the day she and Adora were sorted into.

"All right," Grizzlor declared (and at this point Catra had stopped being surprised that he was the one they kept getting stuck with) as he checked over his clipboard and the three kids in front of him. "Catra, this is your first time, so you have access to the full $300. Don't go too wild. Adora and Gallen, you two have less to work with, so don't forget it has to last the rest of the quarter. Now let's get going."

They were able to get Catra a few new pairs of clothes for their off days at a thrift store, including a new coat and some boots for the oncoming winter--though Catra hissed a little under her breath as she laced them up and got used to the awful feeling of her feet being confined. Grizzlor paid, because it turned out the government wasn't quite insane enough to hand a pair of elementary kids a stack of cash (Gallen, who was thirteen, was given a bit more leeway in that he was allowed to at least carry small amounts of money, though not all of it at once.) They dropped into the local music shop, and the proprietor--an old Taurus woman with a massive braided beard--winked at Adora as she reached under the counter and pulled out a pair of books she'd special ordered the previous trip, while Catra considered getting some spare strings for her guitar until Grizzlor reminded her that Right Zone budgeted for that kind of thing and to save her money.

They were wandering around the streets of that slice of picturesque small town horseshit and occasionally waving at the other students they spotted when Adora reached up to tug at the sleeve of Grizzlor's shirt, cupping her hands around his ear and whispering when he bent down.

"Oh, all right. If anyone asks, you twisted my arm," Grizzlor grumbled with a fangy grin as he slipped something into her palm. "Gallen, you keep an eye on her. If you let her out of your sight, even if it's just to use the bathroom, I'm gonna let Ms. Weaver _eat_ you."

Gallen snapped a moody salute as Adora, mouthing "I'll explain later" to Catra, grabbed his hand and tugged him away.

Left alone, Catra and the big man shared a look at each other out of the corner of their eyes, and Grizzlor sighed as he kicked away a rock. "Well, it's just you and me for a little bit, kid. See anything you're interested in?"

And Catra was about to say no and find a place to sit and wait until Adora and Gallen came back, when a faded sign that read "Callix Hardware" caught her eye. She pointed, "I wanna go in there."

Grizzlor did a double take, scratching the back of his head. "Why on earth would you wanna go inside a hardware store of all places?"

Catra stared at him, chin set, until he sighed and reached out his hand. "Ok, fine. But you're not gonna get a chainsaw."

Once inside, Catra made a beeline for the rolls of chains along the far wall, sliding each through her fingers and testing the give before the very confused pair of Grizzlor and (presumably) the shop owner, a hulking rock man. Once she decided on a good compromise between strength and price, she turned to Callix. "Can I get three feet of this, please? Also, I'm gonna need a lock too."

She never would have thought a man made of rock could raise a confused eyebrow, but that's exactly what Callix did as he turned to Grizzlor, who shrugged helplessly in response. "If you're trying to put a lock on your door there are easier ways to do it. Plus federal regulations won't allow me to help you. Needs to be easily accessible in case of fire."

"It's not for the door," Catra said. "It's to keep something of mine safe."

"All right then."

Chain and lock in hand, they made their way to the front counter when something in the discount bin caught Catra's eye. "This too, please."

She passed the first aid kit up to Grizzlor, and the big man _grimaced_ as his hands curled around the clear plastic casing, confirming once and for all what Catra already knew: it _wasn't_ a secret.

"All right," He said again, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes as he breathed out through his nose. "But you better stash it in your backpack before the other two get back. That Gallen's a real brown-noser. Can't keep a secret to save his life, or anyone else’s for that matter."

Catra did as he said, and a short while later they were milling about in front of the town square when Adora and Gallen rejoined them, Adora rushing up to Catra and grabbing her with a hug while Gallen trailed behind with a sullen look on his face.

"Ok, you three done?" Grizzlor rumbled, and at the resulting affirmations, "Then let's git to gittin' before those other assholes start crowding the road back. Maniacs, I tell you."

They piled back into Grizzlor's pick-up truck--which looked like it had gotten its start ramming dinosaurs when it was new--with Gallen in the front arguing with Grizzlor about the radio station (jazz standards) and Adora and Catra in the backseat. Catra leaned into Adora's side and closed her eyes, letting herself drift in the moment, until something nudged against her leg.

Looking down, she saw a small cardboard box--about the size of her cupped hands--being pushed her way by Adora, who whispered, "Here."

Slicing open the tape with one of her claws, Catra popped open the lid to find... A cupcake, decorated in orange frosting with a little smiley face stenciled on.

"I know it's a little early and Gallen wouldn't let me buy a candle and the lady who ran the shop didn't know if Magicats could eat chocolate or not," Adora started to ramble when Catra looked at her, before trailing off. "But I guess what I'm trying to say is... Happy birthday?"

It hit Catra like a punch to the heart, because damn it, this was the kind of thing that made Adora (in this life or in her dreams) so impossible to stay angry at. This was the kind of thing that made her swallow her pride and the hurt and keep her mouth shut no matter what Weaver did to her.

Just this. Just Adora.

"Thank you," She whispered as she leaned in and nudged her head against her friend's shoulder, a purr slipping out as Adora's fingers scritched just right at the base of her ears.

"You're welcome. Now are you gonna eat that thing or not?"

"Duh," Catra drawled, the mood now thoroughly broken, rolling her eyes at this damn _nerd_ even as she broke the cupcake in half and offered it to Adora in turn. "We'll eat it together."

\----------

The next year passes in a blur of activity, and before Catra even notices it they're both seven. She's had a minor growth spurt, but she's still nowhere near big enough to play her guitar, whose case she now chains to the corner post underneath their bunk bed whenever she has to leave it behind. She's come back a few times to other people's scents on the chain and lock (the key of which is hung permanently around her neck), but it looked like everyone gave up and went after easier targets.

(And if she tracked down a few of those people by their scents--including Gallen, the bitch--and left a message of her own carved into _their_ things, well... Catra's certainly not telling.)

Both she and Adora are teetering on the edge of advanced guitar work now, to the astonishment of their teachers and envy of the other students, but it looks like they'll be stalled there for a little while until their hands get bigger and their arms get longer and they can reach as far as they need to hit all the notes on a proper full-sized guitar.

Not that Catra minds the wait so much; as far as she's concerned that just means more time for her and Adora to sneak onto the library computer and listen--one earbud each--to new and interesting classic rock songs until the librarian chases them off, and they race laughing back to their room to take notes and try to reconstitute the songs from their shared memory.

The funny thing about it is that the library computer has a filter set banning pretty much anything it classifies as "age inappropriate", from swearing to lewd words to even the word "miniskirt" on one bafflingly memorable occasion... But the _equally_ funny thing about classic rock is that despite how much it seeped into the public consciousness and became part of the vernacular, the songs themselves tended to be virtually squeaky _clean_ lyric-wise--and what wasn't was usually heavily veiled in innuendo.

Man, Catra would never forget the appalled look on Adora's face when they stumbled across what "Cat Scratch Fever" was really about (though she was sure her own face was much the same, if a little less visibly red through all the fur.)

But for every light there comes a shadow, and in Catra's case its name is Shadow Weaver--newly rechristened after one of Catra's nightmares dropped that one in. Admittedly, it was barely even a nickname when the bitch herself would be able to figure it out the instant she overheard, but it still gave Catra vindictive glee to say it aloud anyway. Even Adora, who tried so hard to be a buffer between them, got a little smirk going when Catra said it in the privacy of their room.

Catra sleeps almost exclusively in the bottom bunk now, unless she's in the process of recovering from one of Shadow Weaver's little "disciplinary sessions."

That's what ultimately gets her caught.

\----------

It's a few weeks after Adora's birthday--and a few short months of Catra teasingly demanding she respect her elders to hide that she was negotiating on the side with Grizzlor over a "special order" down at the cake shop--and Catra hasn't been in this much pain since the night gravity itself body checked her via an eighteen wheeler and slammed her into the bottom of a riverbed.

At this point, she's not sure which of them screwed up more, her or Shadow Weaver; Catra for daring to poke that bear while its metaphorical claw marks were still fresh on her skin, or Shadow Weaver for letting Catra rile her up to the point where she completely ignored the potential danger of delivering another beating to her before the previous one could even _start_ to heal.

Which is all just a fancy way of saying that five lashes in, one of the bruises finally ruptured, leaving Catra's white regulation Right Zone uniform shirt sticking to her back with blood. Not that it stopped Shadow Weaver from getting a few more hits in before forcibly ejecting her from her office in disgust.

It was past curfew, thankfully. Over the past year, Shadow Weaver had shifted their little sessions further away from ordinary business hours, partly to punish Catra by making her miss dinner and partly because it meant less people noticing who might put two and two together.

And by "less people", she really meant Adora, since it was by now an open secret among most of the staff and the kids what really went on when Catra Leandros managed to piss off the headmistress. But these days, even Adora was beginning to look less concerned and more... Pensive when Catra jokingly told her not to wait up.

But tonight the pain had crossed the threshold from "bad but ignorable" and straight into "fucking torturous." So, praying that Adora would be totally asleep--because Catra didn't know how she'd be able to play this off as normal--she began a slow ascent up the stairs, fresh little waves of agony shooting through her every time the motion of her shoulders caused the blood dried into her shirt to tug against the wound. Getting that shirt off later was going to _suck_.

_One step at a time, Leandros._

She stopped outside the door to their room, listening in carefully until she heard the tell-tale sound of Adora's slow, even breaths. Asleep then. Thank God. Turning the knob slow, Catra squeezed open the door and slipped in.

Adora was crashed on her side in the bottom bunk, back turned toward the door in a display of defenselessness that had Catra sending another "thanks" heavenwards, because the thought of having to stare right at Adora's sleeping face as she painfully inched her way into the top bunk sounded like an image out of Catra's own personal hell. At least she'd taken to stashing a spare roll of bandages in her pillowcase, so she wouldn't risk disturbing Adora by pulling open her drawer of the nightstand.

Gripping the sides of the ladder and bracing for fresh torment, Catra hauled herself up the first rung. One. Gritting her teeth, tail lashing, she moved to the next. Two.

"Catra?"

Her foot was halfway to the next rung when Adora's voice cut through her concentration. Catra jumped, the ladder rocking dangerously with the motion, and when she tried to right herself, well...

She slipped.

And landed on her side on the bedroom floor before _bouncing_ onto her back.

Through the howl that rips itself from her throat, Catra's sort of glad she missed dinner tonight, if only because the agony currently tearing through her body makes her feel like she's gonna throw up.

The only saving grace to this entire thing is that the staff and other kids are frankly used to her nightmares at this point, so they're not likely to come check. But it's not like that actually matters, Catra reminds herself as the light comes on.

Not when Adora's looking down at her. Not when Catra hears that gasp she's been dreading for months now.

This had never been a game she was going to win.

Her screams have turned into small whimpers as Adora tugs her upper body across her lap, trying so hard to be mindful of the wounds but unable to see the whole thing until she has Catra in place. By both instinct and habit at this point (_instinct to soothe, habit from long nights of comforting Catra in the throes of yet another nightmare,_) her free hand goes to Catra's ear even as she begins to explore the extent of the damage.

Catra can't purr right now, even running on pure Magicat instinct, and just buries her face tight against Adora's stomach and lets the sobs finally come. Fuck her stubborn pride and fuck Shadow Weaver and fuck everything about this whole situation except for Adora's hands on her body and her comforting words in Catra's ears and the warm feeling of being held by somebody who doesn't _hate_ her.

Why the fuck had she denied herself this for so long?

_Oh right,_ it came to her just as she heard Adora hiss something that sounded suspiciously like "I'm going to kill her." _Shadow Weaver. And my own stupid need to protect what can't really be protected. Not in a place like this, anyway._

Because when she looked up at Adora's face through the veil of tears, she didn't see any surprise. Anger, yes. Disappointment? Most definitely. But not a single lick of surprise.

_Guess we both underestimated you this time--huh, Adora?_

Catra loses track of how long it takes her sobs to quiet down, but they do eventually, until there's nothing left but trembling little whimpers as Adora gently--oh so gently--lifts the shirt from Catra's skin centimeter by centimeter. Until it finally comes loose with a little parting kiss of rawness and the full damage is laid out in front of her like a roadmap of agony.

They're both far too young for this.

But the thing that gets to Catra, the thing that terrifies her into opening her eyes and forcing herself to _look_, is just how quiet Adora has become. Her heart is hammering away on the edge of Catra's senses so loud it could be a drum solo, but the rest of her has gone deathly still.

And when Catra does look at her, she sees wide open eyes locked a thousand miles away, shaking hands clenching and unclenching into fists, and teeth that are mere seconds away from being exposed in a _roar_.

For the first time in her life, Catra is wholly aware of the fact that--for all their comparative dullness--humans have fangs, too.

"I'm going to stop this," Adora mumbles, almost to herself before those blue eyes sharpen like a point of glass. "I'm putting a stop to this right now."

Catra's guts turn to ice water the instant that declaration processes, and she clings on tight as Adora attempts to shift her off her lap. "Don't-!"

"Are you insane, Catra?!" And this time, Adora's the one shouting even while Catra's ears flatten protectively against her skull and she buries her head even harder against Adora's belly as she clings on for what is literally her life. "Look at yourself! You've been spending more and more time stuck in Shadow Weaver's little torture sessions and now your back is split open! How long will it be until she actually kills you?"

"And how is you storming in there going to make things better?!"

"I'll figure something out, okay? I'm her precious 'prized pupil'," And here she spits the words with more vitriol than Catra had ever thought a seven year old could muster. "What good is any of that if I can't leverage it into keeping you safe?"

"Adora."

"And why the hell have you just been quiet this whole time, like I wouldn't even _notice_ that you slept in the top bunk every time you went to see her, or winced whenever I touched your back, or jumped every time you heard boots in the hall?!"

"Adora."

"And at this point I frankly don't give a _fuck_ what happens to me if it means keeping the one person who cares about me _for me_ alive-!"

"_ADORA_!" Ignoring the renewed pain that rockets through her entire body, Catra surges into a sitting position and grabs her, clapping a hand over Adora's mouth and forcing her to listen. "It won't _work_. Shadow Weaver's not going to stop now, not for you or me or anyone else. She enjoys it. Too. _Much_."

And there's the one thing Catra never wanted to see: the sheer hopelessness in those eyes as the weight of _exactly_ how powerless they are in this situation finally sinks in. She releases Adora's mouth, and their foreheads meet as everything just sorta... Drains out of both of them, and now it's just as much Catra supporting Adora as Adora supporting Catra.

"I have to do something," Adora's breath against her face is equal parts distracting and anchoring. "I'm gonna go crazy if I don't do _something_."

And belatedly, Catra finally pieces together that as protective as she feels about Adora... Adora feels the same about _her_. And it's equal parts reassuring and fucking terrifying.

"Then help me," She mumbles back. "You can't protect me. Weaver won't allow it, and I don't want you putting yourself at risk. But..."

And here she pauses to take a deep breath, knowing full well that she is about to expose something deep and vital and vulnerable inside her, and the other Catra that lurks in her dreams hiding behind snark and deflection would kick her in the head if she could see this now. But she isn't that Catra, and right now she doesn’t want to be.

"But you can help me after. I can get better a lot faster if you're with me."

Adora stares at her, mouth agape and tears gathering at the corners of her eyes and Catra does _not_ look away.

"Okay." A hard sniff against the shoulder of her own shirt. "Okay. I've got you."

The words tickle something in the back of Catra's mind even as Adora carefully--or as carefully as two badly damaged seven year olds can manage, which is to say: not very--maneuvers her to her feet and settles her stomach-down on the bed, helping Catra lift her arms so she can slide the now ruined shirt free and get a full look at the damage. Too tired to lift her head, Catra can only gesture vaguely in the direction of the bottom drawer and hear the click of Adora's tongue as she retrieves the first aid kit.

Time goes weird and fuzzy at the edges as Adora works, carefully sussing out where the bruises are beneath the fur and working her fingers in so she can apply some arnica gel Catra picked up during their last trip to town by following the line of her fur down to the skin. Where she finds cuts (and there _are_ more beyond just the obvious one) she uses the kit's scissors to gently trim the fur around them to keep the area clean before applying antiseptic, closely examining each cut to make sure no fur got caught in the wound and doing her best to gently tease it free with tweezers when she does find some. There's pain throughout the entire process, but the entire time Adora murmurs soft reassurances at her and occasionally pauses to rub the base of Catra's ears, so pretty soon Catra just surrenders to the floating in her body.

At least until Adora reaches the big wound, and takes a deep breath to steady herself as she removes the small bottle of alcohol disinfectant from the kit. "This is probably going to hurt a lot, okay? Just breathe."

Catra can't do much more then flash an exhausted thumbs up before the pain hits her, but honestly? Compared to the moment when her back hit the floor _way_ too long ago already, this is practically sunshine and rainbows.

Though of course, Adora's free hand running along the back of her head might have something to do with it.

It takes a long time, almost as long as rest of the process put together, but finally, (_finally_!) Adora is smoothing a non-adhesive bandage over the wound. "It's Sunday tomorrow. I'll check it again when we wake up. Whenever that is."

Catra just nods, letting Adora slide onto the bed beside her and carefully tuck her head beneath her chin. She can't hold Catra like she obviously wants to, not without the risk of accidentally hurting her back while they sleep, but Catra can hold onto her and that'll have to be enough for now.

Words, like a half-forgotten melody, threads through her mind as she drifts in and out of consciousness.

_"It doesn't really matter what they do to us."_

_"You look out for me, I look out for you."_

_"Nothing really bad can happen as long as we have each other."_

Maybe that was where that other Catra, vibrant and brave and practically spitting in the face of danger, drew her strength from. That promise.

She's not dream Adora. She can't make naive promises or guarantees knowing what she knows. But that's okay. Catra can make her own promises.

"It doesn't matter what she does to me," She mumbles against Adora's pulse. "Or, well, it _does_ matter. But I can take it, as long as you're with me. I've got your back if you've got mine."

Catra isn't expecting an answer, but an arm wraps around her neck, a voice whispering in her ear both sleepy and plaintive. "Promise?"

The world slots together, and Catra surrenders to both her fate and the embrace of sleep. "I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please raise your "Mal recreates The Promise" counter by one. Obligatory Author's Note of Responsibility: the kids are doing the best they can here with what they've got, but if you ever have to treat lacerations please wash your hands or put on some gloves first. Also, big shout-out to the BDSM community of all places; I'm pretty certain that all of the search variations on "possible wounds from getting beaten by a belt" and "how to treat whipping injuries" got me on a government watchlist, and they were still the only ones who gave me useful information beyond "report this to the police immediately." So thank you, BDSM community. I salute your efforts at educating the public.
> 
> Next time: two familiar faces enter the scene, new bonds are born, Adora and Catra help each other through the feelings, and some racists get what's coming to them.


	3. But I Know These Storms Already (So I'll Weather The Drowning Sea)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Right Zone's environment of casual abuse is further explored, Catra has a Plan™, Adora has Concerns™, miscommunications are discussed and apologies made, and two old/new friends make their entrances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news guys: while Shadow Weaver's abuse is alluded to in this chapter, it's significantly lighter this time around. We will be dealing with some themes of bullying and fantastic racism (and said racists getting some comeuppance), but it's not that dark. Might even be warm and fuzzy compared to last time.
> 
> Also, just as a general announcement: the next couple of chapters probably won't be coming as quickly as before. The reason for that is because all of the previous chapters were written during a phase of bipolar II hypomania and my switch flipped. I'm gonna try to keep pecking away at it every day, but I won't be banging out 5000 words a session until it kicks in again. So patience would be appreciated. That said, hope you guys enjoy.

It's toward the end of the summer when they're eight that they find Rogelio again.  
  
Not that Catra knew his name at the time--like it had with Adora, any mention of the names of the three squad mates that circled in and out of her dreams just seemed to skip over names like a bad tape until she actually met them. But she kept an eye out, just the same. If it was anything like Adora and these people were somehow destined to be included in their lives, they'd make their way eventually.  
  
But still, Rogelio caught her off guard.  
  
Even though they were out of school for general education, there wasn't really a summer vacation in Right Zone. The kids had to keep their skills sharp, after all. So to compromise and still give them time to rest, the six days of the week that they usually split between classes there and time in normal school were instead split entirely into half days--so they still got the normal amount of studying and practice time but could still have some fun and recharge their batteries before the next school year.  
  
She and Adora had just finished up classes and were walking back to their room, idly tossing back and forth suggestions on how to spend their free time. Adora wanted to go down to the library and look up more songs--they were currently working their way through Led Zeppelin's extensive back catalog--while Catra favored getting up on the roof and enjoying the sun while her back was still well enough for it. Shadow Weaver was still as terrible as she ever was, but the increased amount of daily free time meant she had less opportunity to engineer excuses to call Catra to her office (though that hadn't stopped her from increasing her inspections of Adora's progress, circling like a particularly vindictive and vengeful vulture with bad taste in fashion.)  
  
But as they were passing the second floor hallway and continuing up, a ruckus caught their attention.  
  
"Hold still, you little shit! You can't just ignore me when I talk to you and expect to get away with it!"  
  
The only sound from the other participant was the sound of feet sliding on the floor and a few low grunts, presumably from struggling with their attacker. Catra's eyes narrowed, and her ears flattened.  
  
Looking to Adora, whose expression had gone just as hard, she said, "Let's go," and the two raced off down the hall in the direction of the shouts.  
  
Wasn't difficult to find the source; one of the teachers was standing in the doorway of a classroom fighting with a scrawny lizard-kin kid. Even as the guy (human) kept going on about showing respect to your betters--and boy did that make Catra's blood boil--the kid didn't do anything but grunt and make repeating gestures as he tried to pry the teacher's grip free from his arm.  
  
_Wait a minute..._  
  
But before they could even say anything, the teacher knocked the kid back against the doorframe and raised an arm above his head. "Scaly piece of trash-!"  
  
And Catra _slammed_ into the back of his legs, relying on her momentum from running to generate enough force despite her own small size in comparison to the man. It worked, and the teacher let out a yell as his forehead impacted the doorframe above the kid, hard enough to make an audible slap. "Knock it off, asshole! Can't you see he's trying to talk to you?"  
  
Then Adora came in a second later, her own impact knocking the already off-balance adult to the side and into the classroom proper. The two took up a protective stance in front of the lizard-kin boy, who was frantically trying to catch his breath.  
  
The teacher staggered back into a full standing position and looked down at them, lip raising in a sneer as he saw who had confronted him. "Oh, it's you. Ms. Weaver's pet... And _her_ pet as well."  
  
Catra bristled under the implication, and when she looked out of the corner of her eye, Adora had an expression of outright _murder_ on her face. "Then you should really know better than to fuck with us."  
  
"Oh, I know better than to fuck with _her,"_ He pointed at Adora. "But I am fully capable of telling Ms. Weaver what _you've_ done. Everybody knows you're her favorite scratching post."  
  
"Go ahead," Catra goaded with an ugly grin. "Go ahead and tell Weaver that you got beaten back by me. See how far that gets you in her regard: admitting that the kid she regularly beats like a cheap pinata one-upped _you,_ an alleged adult. The bottom of the food chain has plenty of room to spread out, you speciest dirtbag."  
  
They stared each other down for a long moment. He looked away first. "Whatever. A hybrid piece of shit like you isn't worth the effort."  
  
"Whatever makes you feel better," Catra stuck her tongue out at him as he stalked away.  
  
"What a dickhead," Adora muttered under her breath, and Catra snorted before turning back to the lizard-kin.  
  
"You okay there?"  
  
The boy just nodded, still a little shaky but Catra could hear his breathing evening out. She glanced over her shoulder at Adora, who was likewise paying attention but smart enough to know that another human approaching him so soon might not be the best idea right now. "Hey, Adora, you've got a pen and paper on you, right?"  
  
She nodded, rummaging briefly through her messenger bag and handing the items off to Catra, who in turn passed them to the boy. He immediately began writing something down on the paper, and as his face tilted down, Catra suddenly noticed the mark on his face between his snout and forehead; almost like an inverted teardrop, but split in half, with the top half further divided in a slant.  
  
She did a double take at first, but now that she could really take a look at him she could see the other details; like the particular slant of his eyes, the three little spikes on each side of his head. He hasn't grown his head or back ridges yet, and he was so scrawny and small compared to the figure in her dreams, but it was _him._ One of their three.  
  
Catra must have been staring but the boy mistook her gaze for focus instead, so he just turned the paper around and tapped a claw against it. Written there in surprisingly pretty handwriting was the words, _'Thanks for helping me out. That guy was a dick.'_  
  
Beside her, Adora sputtered a laugh and answered for both of them. "You're welcome. What's your name?"  
  
_'Rogelio.'_  
  
"Rogelio?" Catra murmured, the 'g' like a 'j', the feel of it not quite right on her tongue.  
  
He shook his head, and quickly put a little 'h' over the g. _'Pronounced different.'_  
  
_"Rogelio,"_ Catra grinned. Much better. That was what fit. "Nice to meetcha. I'm Catra, and that's Adora."  
  
He snorted. _'I gathered. But it's nice to meet you guys too.'_  
  
"That guy wasn't one of your teachers, was he?"  
  
A shake of the head. _'No. I just got here early. I'm starting a few weeks from now in the new school year. That guy was supposed to be showing me around campus, but he didn't like that I wasn't speaking to him.'_  
  
Catra never thought she'd be grateful for grumpy-ass Grizzlor being the one to give her the tour that first day (though she was glad that at least Rogelio wouldn't be dealing with that racist asshat every day.) Muttering under her breath, Adora echoed the sentiment: "What a welcome wagon."  
  
He cocked his head._ 'Are all of the teachers like that?'_  
  
"Not all of them," Catra replied with a helpless little half-shrug. "Some of them might even be decent people. But the lady who runs this place, Weaver, is the worst of the whole bunch, so the staff is full of bullies that take advantage of her not giving a shit. Everybody else is too afraid of losing their jobs."  
  
He gave her a slow, reptilian blink, before writing something down._ 'He called you a scratching post.'_  
  
Beside her, Adora cringed and Catra reflexively reached out for her hand; she hastily entwined their fingers in return, squeezing tight.  
  
"I'd rather not get into that right now," Catra rubbed at the back of her neck awkwardly, but Rogelio seemed to understand what she meant. "Listen, we were just talking about what we were gonna do with our free time today. Wanna come hang out with us?"  
  
Man, it was _weird_ being the one to reach out like this, and it must have shown if the looks of bemusement on both her companions' faces were anything to go by. But after a moment of scrutinizing her, Rogelio's face relaxed into a smile.  
  
_'I'd like that.'_

\----------

Thing is, Catra would be lying if she said she didn't have an ulterior motive in all this.

Because, well, whenever she had dreams of her and Adora and the other three members of their little crew, something was always... Off.

It took her a while to figure out that exactly it was. Even though dream Adora was very much the lynchpin of their scrappy little group, she just didn't... Interact with the others much. The only time Catra ever noticed her socializing with them outside of sparring or training--and she still hasn't fully figured out why a bunch of _kids_ were doing live fire exercises with death robots--was when dream Catra went off on her own. Otherwise, it was more or less a given that it would be dream Catra and dream Adora locked in their own orbit, with the others just being little satellites blipping in and out of focus.

And while Catra did love to be the center of Adora's attention, the feeling she got when she watched--wraithlike--as dream Adora just sorta flitted in and out of these people's lives with no real connection... Well, it was a little too similar to the feeling she got watching _her_ Adora trying and failing to bridge the gap between her and the other students. Subtly but definitively wrong.

As the years went by, she was beginning to notice more and more differences between the pair they were now and the pair in her dreams. Dream Adora was deeply focused on dream Catra above everyone else, but she also just didn't seem to _notice_ what was going on whenever the other Catra got called in for 'performance evaluations'. And while dream Catra was just as intensely protective of her Adora, she didn't seem to be able to _do_ anything about it; every time she tried to close that gap something seemed to go wrong to prevent her from proving herself.

She still remembered that one time: watching her other self slink away from a sparring session after playing everything off as fine, only to end up crying in front of the mirror alone.

And well... If dream Adora's actions reminded Catra of that painful realization of just how isolated Shadow Weaver kept her, then dream Catra was starting to uncomfortably mirror her own stubborn insistence on hiding what the old hag was doing to her. And it was only hurting them both.

Adora would always be Catra's first priority, but she was also starting to grasp a simple fact: she couldn't do it all. And trying to do so anyway would very likely kill them both, if not literally then at least emotionally.

So even if the thought of Adora befriending and leaning on other people made Catra feel a tiny, shameful buzz of jealousy in the crevices of her too-soft heart, she'd make sure things were different this time. For both their sakes.

\----------

But even though Catra had her own secret motivation, she had to admit that it wasn't some big hardship hanging out with Rogelio. The other hybrid had a very dry sense of humor and keen observational skills--probably because he was always having to listen, but rarely listened to in return, which made Catra's heart ache a little. But give him a pen and paper and he could steal an entire conversation away to the point that you forgot you were reading his words and not listening to some dry, stony rumble.

Plus when she and Adora first found out that he was also a guitar player (albeit bass, not rhythm) the resulting jam session in the practice room nearly brought all the other unforunate players sharing the space to frustrated tears. Rogelio wasn't as advanced in his playing as Catra and Adora were, but he was _extremely_ good at figuring out how to match his sound to theirs on the fly. It was a nice change of pace from constantly challenging each other to just work in a group like that, mixing melodies.

Within a few months, while she and Adora still got plenty of time alone together in the safety of their room (though Shadow Weaver's renewed focus on the torture tended to put a bittersweet edge on things) it was more common for the three of them to be together whenever they weren't. Obnoxious as fuck to have to deal with some people's comments about Adora opening her own zoo, but a flash of Catra's claws or a warning snort from Rogelio usually got them to shut up for a while.

In its own weird way, that made it easier for Catra to close that gap. Even if the insults and presentation differed between their respective species, Rogelio understood what it was like to be looked down upon for not being human--or at least not close enough that the differences could be overlooked. While there were other hybrids scattered throughout the school, Catra had done a headcount during an assembly once and found there were only about fifteen in a student body of over one hundred, and only two of them were lizard-kin and there were no other Magicats at all. (Not terribly surprising, since Grizzlor had all but outright stated that Shadow Weaver despised Catra's people.)

Adora, bless her heart, had a strong sense of justice and would not tolerate anyone treating either of them as less than a full person. But even though she tried her best to listen and understand Catra when she talked about it... She'd never really be able to fully understand what it was like to have someone constantly compare you to an animal, or to look in someone's eyes and realize that they _hated_ you just for what you were without even knowing another thing about you, or even wanting to.

Rogelio got it because he lived with the exact same thing, just dressed up in different clothes.

The incident that cemented that bond occurred on a Saturday in mid November.

It was after classes and Shadow Weaver was coming by for one of her inspections, and Adora had _begged_ Catra to take a walk, so even though she had wanted to spit and hiss at the thought of leaving Adora alone with that monster... Well, she capitulated in the end, when Adora told her she wasn't sure she'd be able to keep her temper if she saw her and Shadow Weaver in the same room together.

She'd spent a chunk of last night patching Catra up again, so it wasn't like she didn't have a point. And even if Adora was by now very comfortable with her own rage towards the old crone, actually showing it to her face would be dangerous for both of them.

So Catra left, mentally preparing a list of questions to ask Adora later so she could try to defuse some of Shadow Weaver's mind games (it was a work in progress.) She soon caught Rogelio on the second floor, having finished his usual post-class bass guitar drills; the bass teacher--who wasn't Grizzlor--insisted on it.

They were moving back to the stairs, throwing idle suggestions of what to do with the unexpected free time back and forth, when three other students darted from a classroom to stand in their way. Behind them, another three blocked off that direction. Practically on instinct, Catra and Rogelio both pivoted so their backs would be pressed against the wall and they could watch all six in unison.

One of the group--a boy that Catra recognized as having stomped on her tail during an assembly only to receive Catra's fangs in his arm in return--sneered at them. "Hey runts. Where's your owner?"

_Weak insult,_ Catra thought as she ignored the little prick and turned her head a little to look at Rogelio, pointing idly at the three on her side. "Well, I recognize the Tweedles Dumb, Dumber and Dumbass over here, but not the other three. Guessing they're yours?"

Rogelio nodded in return, eyes going narrow and focused. Catra wished he could write right now without risking being jumped--she could use one of those precision tactical quips.

"You two have been trouble for all of us," A black haired girl from his side pitched in, in an obnoxiously nasally voice. "So we decided to team up and teach you two freaks a lesson."

"You know, you're really doing the whole 'human supremacy' thing badly if you need six of you to stand a chance against two hybrids. If humans really are as much hot shit like you say, it should really only take one. Or are you all just so pathetic that each of you equals one-sixth of a normal person? Just curious."

There were curses and weak posturing from the other group, but Catra sensed the tension and tuned it out as they each prepared to fight: stances widening and hands curling into fists. She forced herself to retract her claws; while she could get away with scratching a little bitch here and there, sending six people to the infirmary with claw marks would mean an almost guaranteed trip to torture town later.

Catra _hated_ being handicapped like that. And frankly, she didn't want to deal with that right now. Not when Shadow Weaver's continued insistence on keeping her shriveled little heart pumping in spite of the metric fuckton of hatred directed its way had already resulted in being cast out of her room, her _safe zone_, and leaving Adora to deal with her mind games alone.

Maybe a little percussive therapy would be good for her after all.

She and Rogelio subtly pulled in so that they were each facing one half of the group slantways, one shoulder nearly touching the other's even as they guarded each other's backs.

"You take that side and I take this one?" She murmured under her breath so that only he could hear, and felt the answering nod.

Then the whole hall erupted into chaos.

\----------

The look on Adora's face when she opened the door would have been absolutely priceless if not for the startled exclamation after (or the fact that Catra could currently only appreciate it through one eye.) "What the _hell_?!"

"In our defense," Catra chuckled weakly from where she was being forced to lean on Rogelio's shoulder for support. "You should totally see the other six guys."

Adora forced herself to take a slow, deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose, the way she always did when she was trying to fight back an eruption of anger. "Ok, you know what? One step at a time. Both of you get in here so I can start patching you up. But-"

And here she jabbed a finger at the pair for emphasis. "You're both gonna need to explain _while_ I'm focused on that so I don't blow a gasket. Got it?"

"Crystal clear," Catra groaned, while Rogelio gave a thumbs up.

After Adora helped them so the two were more or less comfortably seated on the floor leaning against the baseboard of their bunk, she pulled open what had by this point just become their expanded first aid drawer and began pulling out bandages, antiseptic and a couple of instant ice packs. Snapping one with a practiced motion, she handed it to Catra. "Put this on that shiner while I get a look at your leg."

Catra obeyed, and Adora let out an angry hiss as she rolled up Catra's pant leg and saw the vivid swelling of her right ankle both above and below the cuff of her winter boot. "How'd this happen and who do I need to throw down the stairs?"

Rogelio--who had by this point managed to pull out his notebook and pen--quickly jotted something down and tapped at the paper to get their attention. _'Lucky shot. One of them stomped Catra's leg when she was distracted making one of the other idiots slam himself into a wall.'_

Adora looked back at Catra, expression somehow managing to be both icy and a little amused as she raised a single eyebrow in expectation.

"Dumbass was charging full bore at me, so I used the wall to flip out of the way and he smacked right into it. But then when I landed, another took the opportunity to stomp down on my ankle before I could juke out of the way. If it helps, it's really not as bad as it looks, plus I headbutted her in the stomach after."

_'She actually ended up puking. It was really gross.'_

"Yeah, but at least it wasn't on either of us."

_'True.'_

"All right," Adora sighed as she stretched Catra's leg out and propped it on her knee to keep it elevated while she wrapped it. "I think I already know the answer, but I'll ask anyway. Why?"

The two of them shifted uncomfortably until Catra murmured, "The usual reason."

"Thought so," Laying another ice pack over the now bound ankle, she pressed Catra's hand down against it. Catra didn't miss the soft squeeze Adora gave her before the hand retreated. "They deserve whatever they got then. I just wish I'd been there to help."

_'Judging from their shitty banter, I'm pretty sure they were watching and waiting for a day when they knew you wouldn't be able to. Not like it made any difference, but cowards are cowards.'_

"Well said," She chuckled, giving Catra a quick once over. Still a few scrapes and bruises left, but nothing that couldn't wait until they were alone. "All right, lemme get a look at you too, tough guy."

Rogelio wasn't as hurt as Catra, mainly due to the fact that their attackers had discovered pretty quickly that punching someone with scales was a highway to bleeding knuckles--and he used that to full advantage by angling himself so that any blows he couldn't fully dodge away from would land on those exposed areas, though kicks were still a problem, as were blows to the clothed parts of his body. After doing an inventory and passing him an ice pack for a nasty bruise on his knee, Adora gave him a half used tube of arnica gel (since applying it herself would likely be very awkward for both of them), which Rogelio accepted with a grateful grunt.

Something occurred to Catra then. "Hey, Rogelio?"

He glanced at her, and she continued. "I know we're all pretty busy lately, but whenever we have some free time and you're up to it... Would you teach me and Adora to read sign?"

It was weird watching a guy with no eyebrows raise them both in surprise, but that's what ended up happening. Even Adora looked a little taken aback, as Catra went on to explain.

"I mean, I know for a fact that I missed out on some killer one liners while we were staring down the goon squad," A snort. "And, I mean..."

She scratched the back of her neck, not used to being vulnerable around anyone that wasn't Adora. "Just because the adults are all assholes doesn't mean you should have to rely on that notepad all the time. Especially not with your friends."

There. She said it. And her mind kept shouting at her over saying it as the other two exhanged a _look_ before Rogelio scribbled down his answer.

_'I'd like that. I might need a few days to plan out which signs to teach you guys first and get some more notepads, but I'd really like that.'_

"Cool," Catra smiled with relief as her tail whipped back and forth behind her.

_'I think I'm gonna head back to my own room now and apply this gel. Thanks for that by the way, Adora,'_ He tapped that line and wiggled the tube at them._ 'I don't think any of those pricks will still be hanging around, but if they are I'll roar.'_

"We'll come running," Adora assured him. "Or well, _I'll_ come running. I think that's a little beyond Catra's capabilities right now."

Catra flipped her off with a good natured grumble. "Like you wouldn't just sling me over your shoulder, Miss Proto-jock. And even if you didn't, I've got three other limbs. Like I'd let a little twisted ankle try to stop me from having you guys' back."

Adora's face softened a little as she heard those familiar words, fingers playing across her own arm out of the repressed urge to reach out and just _touch_ Catra (not that they couldn't trust Rogelio, but they also didn't want to get into the habit and end up being openly affectionate around people who couldn't be trusted. Not like that, anyway. Not in a way that exposed just how much it all _mattered.)_

A snort, and a piece of paper was shoved in their faces. _'Still here, dorks. But I appreciate the support. Just don't get so wrapped up in each other that you miss me shouting, kay?'_

They both nodded in return, each suddenly having discovered a _very_ interesting piece of furniture or drywall pattern to become absorbed in.

Then they were alone. And the tension between them returned with the suddenness of displaced air rushing back into a vacuum. Catra could feel it in the way that Adora rubbed at the back of her neck, sighing half in tiredness and half in irritation as she gathered up the remnants of their medical supplies and either put them away or disposed of them accordingly.

Even though Catra's danger sense warned her to leave it alone... It was Adora. So of course she was gonna ignore it. "Are you mad?"

A sigh in return as Adora shut the drawer and stood up, stretching the kinks out of her back. "I'm not mad at you."

"But you _are_ mad."

"I think I have a right to be. My two best friends got jumped in the hallway right when I couldn't help them."

"I know that, but I mean... You're not _just_ mad. Something's bothering you."

Adora ran a hand through her hair and refused to meet Catra's eyes even as she turned to face her. "Let's get you up and situated first, all right?"

Together, they manage to get Catra sitting up on the bed with her legs stretched towards the edge and her back pressed up against the wall through a pillow. But still Adora dithered, first checking the bruising around Catra's eye with gentle prodding before taking a look at the ankle.

"You were right. It's really not as bad as it looks. Swelling's going down, so while it'll probably be sore for a few weeks you shouldn't have any trouble walking by Monday."

"Told ya," Catra chuckled, but then she reached out and took Adora's hand in hers. "C'mon... Talk to me. Tell me what's eating at you."

Adora's eyes searched hers for a long moment, brow furrowed in concentration. "Be real with me. Are you... Pushing me away?"

_Annddd_ Catra.exe immediately crashed to desktop. "Wait, what?"

Adora groaned and rubbed at the back of her neck. "Look, it's not like I don't like Rogelio or anything. He's a great guy and I like hanging out with the two of you. But it just... It feels like every time I suggest doing something with you recently, you always wanna get him involved. And it just..."

She sighed heavily, looking away like she was _ashamed_ to admit it. "It feels like the only time I get with just us now is either when we go to sleep or when I'm patching you up from getting hurt again."

Catra _stared_ as her mind flashed back to all the times in the past few months when she had insisted on hanging out with Rogelio... And then compared it to the times when it was just her and Adora together. The difference was startling. _Oh shit. Oh shit! I fucked up! I FUCKED UP!_

Because, well... That was the thing with trying to subtly fix things. There was only so much you could work with if you didn't let the other person in. And _not_ fixing this was definitely not an option, in this or any other lifetime.

"Listen," Catra reached out to put a hand on Adora's shoulder and squeezed gently until Adora finally put a hand over it and looked back at her with those pretty blue eyes. "You will _always_ be my first priority, so let's get that straight. I made a promise and I'm going to keep it for as long as you want me around."

"But-"

"Let me finish, ok?" When Adora nodded, she took a deep breath and continued. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to make you feel lonely or like I don't want to be with you or anything. Frankly, I'd be with you all the time if it were feasible. I've already braved Shadow Weaver. Not a whole lot else life can throw at me."

She chuckled a little wryly, fading into a smile when Adora shifted towards her until their knees were touching and they were leaning into each other's gravity. "But it's just... I just don't want you to _always_ have to be worrying about me or thinking about what Weaver's gonna do next or stewing in your anger or all that crap. And like... You deserve to be able to have fun without constantly having that hanging over you. And when it is just us, that stuff is always in the background whether we talk about it or not.

"I'll do whatever you ask, Adora. You know that. But I just figured it would be easier for you to put that aside and relax a little if you could focus on something other than just the two of us. And I'm so damn _sorry_ I didn't realize I was making you worried or explain before now."

A deep shudder came from Adora and she leaned her head against Catra's. "Ok. I get it now. Don't scare me like that again, all right?"

"I'll try my hardest."

"No promises?"

"I only make promises I know I can keep. I can promise I'll try, but you still might need to smack some sense into me. Deal?"

"Deal," Adora grinned, and they leaned into each other for a while. "And just so you know... I feel the same."

"Huh?" (In Catra's defense, she was a little distracted by the feeling of callused fingers stroking along the edge of her ears. Not enough to get a full purr started, but enough to make it difficult to keep her attention on the task at hand.)

"All that stuff about having fun and not worrying about Weaver for a little bit. I want you to have that too. That's why bringing in Rogelio worried me so much. It sounds dumb now, but I thought maybe I wasn't doing a good enough job helping you."

_Not gonna cry. Definitely not gonna cry._ Even if the small sniff gave her away.

Rallying herself, she declared hotly, "You do the _best_ fucking job and I will beat anyone who says otherwise with my guitar. You just can't be on the job all the time, or you'll break. Like playing only one string over and over again. It's okay to need other people sometimes."

"As long as you've got my back in the end."

"Duh," Rolling her eyes, Catra surrendered to the attention once more. "Are we okay?"

"In this place? Probably not." (An elbow--softer than it had to be--into her side.) "But I think... We will be. Maybe someday."

\----------

Someday, to the surprise of absolutely no one, didn't materialize in the next year.

Instead, Lonnie did.

And frankly, Catra wasn't terribly surprised by how it ended up happening. Disappointed, maybe. But not surprised.

It was the middle of spring and the entire Bright Moon adjacent area was dealing with the resulting rainy season, and Catra was roughly 110% done with the whole situation. Because while rain itself was great and lovely, the humidity in the air was also absolute _hell_ on her fur, to the point that she just sorta gave up on any attempts at looking presentable beyond smoothing down her face ruff and tail. Adora tried to help brush her back and the areas that were hard for Catra to see, but honestly... If it weren't for the general aura of calm relaxation Adora got when she was taking care of Catra that way, Catra would have told her not to bother. The work would just be ruined the instant she stepped outside their room.

And to make matters worse, Rogelio was getting sick from the weather, the constant fluctuations in temperature doing his autonomic system precisely zero favors. If he wasn't burritoed up in a million layers in class, he was in his own room buried under a metric fuckton of pillows and blankets in the closet with a regulation heating pad--one of the few concessions Right Zone granted its non-human students, since it was literally illegal not to. (Catra passed along her own blanket. Not like she was using it.)

Rogelio wasn't at risk of dying from the temperature shifts, but there was a very real risk of him going into torpor if his body heat dropped too low. So Catra and Adora were taking turns bringing him soup from the cafeteria or getting a cuddle puddle going to help keep him comfortable, but there was only so much they could do against the whims of Mother Nature.

Seriously, fuck this entire situation.

So right now, while Adora was on blanket-burrito duty with Rogelio, Catra was wandering down the staircase toward the kitchens with the vague hope of cajoling (or barring that, stealing) some more soup from the kitchen staff. It was minestrone today so there was in all likelihood plenty of it left over from lunch and dinner, though Catra seriously doubted the taste mattered at this point as long as Rogelio got some warmth in his belly.

So of course that had to be the moment when people decided to mess with her.

"Hey, Catra," A female voice said as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Turning, Catra saw two girls she'd had problems with before standing in the sizeable alcove beneath the stairs. There was another kid lurking furtively a bit back, but she couldn't make out as many details. A lookout maybe?

"'Fraid that's my line, and I wore it better," Catra drawled as she removed her hands from her pockets and started to limber up. "Look, I'm busy, so can we just get this over with?"

"Yeah, we heard about the scaly getting sick," The other girl piped up. "Sooooo sad. Maybe if Adora did her research before adoption she could have avoided all this. But she does have a soft spot for strays."

_Don't let them bait you._ But despite the internal words of caution, her hands were balling into fists, claws digging into the soft meat of her palms. "You know nothing about Adora. Or either of us. If you did, you wouldn't be talking to me right now."

"Oh really?" Goon one snorted. "Why's that?"

"Because you'd know what I'm gonna do to you if you don't leave me the fuck alone. And that's nothing compared to what Adora will do. I'll just defend myself. Adora will start and _finish_ that fight, and in the same way that Weaver won't give a shit what you do to me, she will give _less_ than a shit about what Adora will do to you in return. So maybe quit while you're ahead, yeah?"

That got a definite reaction, shifting uncomfortably on their feet. One of them gave a dismissive little chuckle, but on the Shadow Weaver scale of sinister Catra rated it a generous 0.5. "Just like a hybrid to hide behind their owner."

"It's called friendship, fuckwad. Maybe look it up in the dictionary sometime, if you even have the capability to read something that complex."

"Enough already," The ringleader snarled, clearly not enjoying how little she was getting out of this back and forth. Jerking her head over her shoulder toward the figure in the shadows, she called, "New kid, get over here."

The girl who stepped into the light was dark skinned, green eyed, and very familiar to Catra. She also looked _very_ unhappy with being here, keeping her eyes down and away from both Catra and her two cohorts while she muttered, "It's Lonnie."

"Like I care until you've proven yourself. Remember, rookie, at Right Zone it's eat or be eaten. So why don't you come over here and show this bitch her place?"

_Catra saw Adora's eyes dart to the side with a sly smile and whirled just in time to block an overhanded blow from Lonnie's force staff. They locked for a moment, elecriciry crackling between them for a second before Lonnie jumped back and threw Catra off balance and forward._

_As she raised the staff overhead to follow up, Catra blocked and then turned the move on its head by leaping forward and forcing Lonnie's staff back before flipping over her prone form. To her credit, Lonnie responded quickly with a backflip of her own, but that moment of distraction was all Catra needed to slam the butt of her staff into the marker on her chest._

_Lonnie scowled at her sourly as Catra caught her breath. Which was all the distraction Adora needed to re-enter the fray and beat her down._

_While Adora received her usual ego-stroking from the instructor, Catra stalked back over to Lonnie, demanding, "What was that? Way to gang up on me!"_

_"You were fighting dirty," Lonnie replied with a holier-than-thou expression that turned into a stink-eye. "I was just leveling the field."_

_Well... Look who's made it an uneven playing field now._ The thought shouldn't have made Catra feel as sad as it did. _This isn't right._

"Yeah, if you wanna be part of the keyboardists you need to prove your worth," The lackey was saying, obviously scripted. "And you can start by showing this two-bit guitarist her place."

"It's okay, you can just admit you're a racist piece of shit. You don't have to drag your poor instrument through the mud too," Catra snorted, but then her eyes flicked to Lonnie. "Are you sure you really wanna do this?"

"What do you mean by-" The leader started.

"Not you, shit-for-brains. I'm done talking to you. I'm talking about _her."_

And then Lonnie looked directly at Catra for the first time, surprise in her expression even as color rose into her cheeks and she angled her body into a defensive stance. "What, you got something to say to me? You wanna judge me?"

Catra shrugged. "Not really. You just seem like the kinda person who actually cares about fair play."

The hit landed, and Lonnie took a half-step back and returned her gaze to the floor.

"If you won't do it, I will!" The leader snarled and rushed Catra, but the anger made her clumsy and predictable (and frankly she wasn't used to fighting the way Catra was.) Catra easily dodged her overhand swing and drove her knee into the girl's gut, then swept her legs out from under her when she doubled over. Straightening, she looked at the other mook and raised an eyebrow; she responded by backing away slowly with her hands raised and facing outwards.

"Well, that's five minutes of my life I'm never getting back," Catra observed as the leader slowly pulled herself to her feet. "Remember this the next time you decide to fuck with me _or_ my friends. And if you still wanna follow through with that impulse..."

She grabbed the girl's jaw in one hand, ignoring the scrabbling at her wrist as she extended her claws until they just barely pricked her cheeks. "Next time the claws come out. Do not let there be a next time."

She released her with a shove backwards and walked away, barely even noticing the snarls of, "Get over here rookie." She was too aware of the sensation of steady eyes glued to her back.

\----------

But if there was one thing Catra had learned about bullies, it was that their entire control system depended on them never knowing when to quit. So she encountered the trio over the next few days watching her in the halls or two of them glaring at her from across the cafeteria. Lonnie just increasingly looked like she didn't wanna be there, shrinking into herself a little more with each passing day.

Catra just watched her. No sneers, no judgement. Just watched, no matter how many times Lonnie met her eyes and flinched away from her gaze. The other two noticed, and over the week they began to get more snappish and more physical with her instead when they weren't focused on mad-dogging Catra.

And even though part of Catra wanted to step in, she wouldn't. Not until she got her point across.

"Hey," Adora murmured beside her as she poked at the hideous slop some idealist on the kitchen staff had optimistically labelled "spaghetti." She nodded subtly in the trio's direction. "Those three. They been giving you trouble?"

"Don't worry," Catra replied under her breath as she took a covering sip from her milk carton. "They're just nuisances. I've got it under control."

Adora's knee nudged hers under the table, and Catra playfully nudged back with a flick of the ears and a small smile.

On Sunday the wet weather finally broke long enough that Rogelio could return to the land of the living, so the three of them had met in Adora and Catra's room to plan a jam session down in the practice room later, when Catra remembered that the strings on Tao's guitar needed replacing. Even if she still couldn't play it the way it deserved, it was still good practice to replace the strings every three months like standard.

So Catra sauntered down the stairs to head to the supply room and request a new set, when from the side of the stairs she heard a soft sniffling coming from the alcove beneath.

Not even thinking about it, she vaulted the bannister, landing in a crouch a few feet from the figure curled up in the tiny space where the stairs almost met the floor.

It was Lonnie. Catra couldn't say she was surprised, having seen the writing on the wall. Nor could she say she was surprised when the other girl hastily scrubbed an arm across her face (wincing as she brushed the rather obvious swelling of her cheek) before glaring at her. "Why are _you_ here?"

Catra feigned disinterest, giving a half shrug and picking at some lint on her jeans. "Why does anyone react to the sound of someone crying? Just wanted to see if you were okay, that's all."

"Why would you care?" Lonnie muttered, drawing her knees up to her chest. "All you know about me is that I'm with those other two bitches."

"Dude," Catra raised an eyebrow at that, noting the self-inclusion in the insult. "I'm not cool with you helping those two gang up on me. But that doesn't mean I want them picking on you either."

"And why wouldn't you? This place is eat or be eaten, right? So why wouldn't you laugh at me getting put in my place?"

"Literally all I've seen from you thus far is you looking very uncomfortable while those two try to get you to do their dirty work for them," Catra pointed out. "So I don't have a particular opinion on you one way or the other. So unless you want to give me a _reason_ to hate you, then no: I'm not gonna just sit here and laugh at you for getting punched in the face."

Lonnie just looked at her without saying anything, hands idly rubbing up and down her arms like she was cold. Catra moved a little closer, still maintaing a respectful distance but inclining her head toward the other girl. "So what happened?"

Lonnie laughed derisively. "They wanted to jump you in the second floor hallway. Hit you from behind as you passed, so you wouldn't get a chance to fight back."

"Wouldn't have worked. These ears hear everything."

"Obviously, or you wouldn't have found me," Lonnie snorted. "But I wasn't cool with that and I finally told them as such, so they tag-teamed me instead."

"Man, that sucks. Why were you with those two in the first place? It was pretty obvious you didn't like what they were doing."

"I only transferred here about a month ago," Lonnie mumbled with a heavy sigh as she laid her chin on her knees. "Those two are my seniors in the keyboard division, and they just apparently decided I was one of them. By the time I caught on to what colossal assholes they were, none of the other kids wanted anything to do with me. Guilt by association."

"I know that feeling," Catra said wryly.

"You would, wouldn't you?" A half-hearted little chuckle, then she straightened and looked Catra in the eye for real this time. "Seriously. I don't need anyone's pity. I messed up, and I can live with that."

"Good, because I'm not offering you pity. I'm offering you a place where people actually give a shit about what you want. Though if you're still against that, I can at least give you an ice pack for that cheek of yours."

She extended a hand, and Lonnie stared at it, mouth opening a little. "Why?"

"It might have taken you a little bit to get on the level this time, but I like people who can call bullshit like it is and still take responsibility for that. That's pretty cool."

A laugh. "Seriously?"

"Serious as a heart attack," Catra grinned. "So how 'bout it?"

Lonnie reached out and grabbed her hand, letting Catra pull out from under the stairs and to her feet. "I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship, furball."

That startled a laugh out of Catra, mostly because there was no real malice behind the words, just a teasing playfulness. It was a nice change of pace. "Right back at you, you catty bitch."

\----------

Adora and Rogelio were midway through a spirited game of Go Fish (which Rogelio had initially introduced as a way to practice reading numbers in sign) when the door opened and Catra strolled in with Lonnie in tow.

"There you are. Rogelio was just suggesting-," Adora began, eyes still on her cards only to abruptly stop speaking when she looked up and saw Lonnie standing awkwardly in the doorway behind Catra. Her eyes darted back and forth between them, arching a brow at Catra. "Should I be worried?"

"Nope," Catra replied cheerfully as she hopped over the card pile and rummaged around in the first aid drawer for an ice pack. Activating it with a snap, she tossed it to Lonnie, who caught it with a grin. "Lonnie: Adora and Rogelio. Adora and Rogelio: Lonnie. She was stuck in the gravity well of two truly phenomenal wastes of human potential, but she was way too cool to stay there forever. So she's with us now."

"Hey," Lonnie gave an awkward wave. Rogelio went to grab his pen and notebook, but she cut him off. "Rogelio, yeah? Heard about you from some other kids. You don't need the paper--I actually know some sign."

"Whoa, how'd that happen?" Adora asked as Rogelio's head snapped in Lonnie's direction, his usually half-lidded eyes wide with excitement.

Lonnie shrugged, rubbing the back of her neck a little bashfully. "One of my foster brothers when I was little was deaf, so we learned together. It's been awhile, but I practiced in the mirror to keep my skills sharp."

_Oof, not a high enough level to access that backstory._ Catra thought, but before she could say anything to smooth things over, Rogelio started to sign something rapid-fire at Lonnie that even with their lessons she couldn't quite catch.

To everyone's surprise, Lonnie actually giggled. "Really? You wanted to see if I was telling the truth and the first thing you came up with was to ask for a peanut butter and pickle sandwich?"

Rogelio's eyes _sparkled_ with delight as he grabbed Lonnie's hand and pulled her down into the circle and began gesturing again amid Lonnie's laughs of "Whoa, I said it's been a while, let me warm up first!"

Smiling softly to herself, Catra plopped down next to Adora to watch the scene play out. Their little lone wolf pack was coming together. Just one more person and it would be complete.

"I'm gonna want the full story later. But..." A shoulder nudged hers, Adora's voice low so that only Catra could hear. "You did good."

Catra grinned, and her tail almost subconsciously wrapped itself around Adora's waist--a point of contact only the two of them would ever know about. "I _did_ do good, didn't I?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: if you compare Rogelio as he appears in The Promise to Rogelio now, the difference is striking. So now you cannot convince me that Rogelio wasn't just a tiny little lizard boy who grew up to be a big lizard hunk and stole Kyle's little twink heart. XD Also, the reason all the bullies don't get any physical details or reak descriptions is because a) they don't deserve them and b) I'm not going looking for obscure names from the 80s cartoons again just for bit characters.
> 
> Gotta admit, I'm not fully satisfied with this chapter, but I'm not entirely sure if that isn't the change in mental perspective just messing with me. I hope that I was able to convey Catra's thought processes clearly here without making her feel too OOC. So if you guys could let me know or point out anything that seems "off" to you, I'd appreciate it.
> 
> Next time: the group experiences fresh changes in their musical educations, the circle is completed, and the future becomes a little clearer.


	4. No Matter What The World Does (Some Things Don't Alter With Time)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shadow Weaver attempts a power play, Adora shows her teeth, Grizzlor is too grumpy for this shit, Rogelio gets a bad case of the dokis, the group finds their final member, bonds are created and cemented, and Catra gets the shit kicked out of her by the uncaring hand of fate before having the biggest epiphany of her entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right folks, trigger warning time: Catra gets the shit kicked out of her by Shadow Weaver again, even worse than the last time, and patching her up is emotionally intense for everyone involved. That said, I can promise that the point of the scene is not Catra getting the shit kicked out of her for my own amusement, but how the others end up reacting to it. But as always, use caution. Oh and there's also some vaguely homophobic dialogue earlier, but the speakers are dicks so I think it goes without saying that I'm not endorsing that. And the whole story does actually end on a high note before we head BACK TO THE FUTURE. Enjoy.

It isn't until the summer when they're ten that Shadow Weaver tries to split them up.  
  
Catra's honestly surprised it took the old crone that long. Adora was still as polite and deferential to her face as ever, but surely she could sense the simmering tension, that _anger,_ prowling just beneath the surface?  
  
But then again, Shadow Weaver was a liar. And like a lot of liars who thought way too highly of themselves, she never expected those she showed favor to lie to her. No, that was for troublemakers like Catra, never favored, _pampered_ (at least in her mind) Adora.  
  
Sometimes, when she was feeling particularly angry about the whole situation, Catra would wonder if she even knew how many nights Catra sat up with Adora in their bunk, trying to untangle the thread of control and warped logic Shadow Weaver kept trying to tangle her up in._ 'No, you always deserve a say in what happens to you.' 'Yes, you deserve to take a break when you need to. You're not a machine, Adora.' 'Hey, I'm here for you. You can lean on me if you need it.'_  
  
She must have started to suspect eventually. That was probably why it happened.  
  
It was a Friday of all days (which Catra always remembered because for some weird reason they only served fish in the cafeteria on Friday) and since it was the summer they only had half classes. Rogelio and Lonnie were off hanging out together--and hilariously enough, it turned out that expanding their little group had actually made it _easier_ for Catra to spend more time with Adora, since it meant she never had to worry too much about either Lonnie or Rogelio getting lonely if she shifted focus--so it was just her and Adora back in their room. Adora was relaxing by reading a book about knights she'd borrowed from the library and Catra took the opportunity to lounge on the roof and enjoy the mid afternoon sun. The window was open, so they'd occasionally toss idle comments back and forth to one another. It was peaceful. It was perfect.  
  
So of course Shadow Weaver had to ruin it.  
  
Her ears pricked up when she heard the sound of the door opening, no knock preceding it like when Lonnie or Rogelio came by to visit. That told her who it was before Shadow Weaver even spoke.  
  
"Good afternoon, Adora. How's my favorite student doing?"  
  
"I'm doing well, Ms. Weaver," Adora answered carefully. "Begging your pardon, ma'am, but you came by to check my progress just last Saturday. Have I done something to warrant another visit so soon?"  
  
"Of course not," The false affection _oozed_ out, laid on so thick that Catra had the sudden urge to drop everything and take a very long shower. "You have done nothing wrong, Adora. I merely stopped by to deliver some good news."  
  
"Oh. Um... Thank you, Ms. Weaver. What's the news?"  
  
"Well, it took a while but we were finally able to free up some space elsewhere in the dormitories. So starting today you'll have your own room again."  
  
Catra bolted upright as she felt her guts ice over, grabbing onto the parapet to support herself while her mind devolved into an endless loop of, _'No no no no no.'_  
  
Beneath her, Shadow Weaver continued on. "And of course that means you won't have to deal with that... _Creature_ distracting you from your studies. I swear... I'm _truly_ sorry you had to put up with her for so long."  
  
_'Crap, okay. This is okay. I can work with this. Just because we won't be sharing the same room doesn't mean we won't see each other. She can't keep us apart all the time. This is one hundred percent okay.'_  
  
(Catra had never been less okay in her entire life.)  
  
And then... A miracle.  
  
"No."  
  
It was so sudden and emphatic that Weaver stopped right in the middle of her monologue. "Now, Adora..."  
  
_"No,"_ Adora repeated, completely steamrolling past the threat of Shadow Weaver's change in mood. "You're the one who's been monitoring my progress these past years. So you should know I've consistently gone from strength to strength since Catra became my roommate. Everyone else around here is too afraid to challenge me. Catra isn't. And I _always_ meet that challenge."  
  
A moment of silence. "I suppose so..."  
  
"Weren't you the one who told me to use every tool I have at my disposal to make it to the top?"  
  
(And even though Catra knew deep down that Adora was just speaking Weaver's language--was playing her in the same way she always tried to play them--she still found herself clutching her chest with one hand at the sudden spike of pain that ripped through her at Adora calling her a _tool._   
  
Blood scented the air as her claws dug in past her fur, the pain grounding her.)  
  
"Hmm..." Shadow Weaver hummed, and Catra could almost see her tapping at her chin in her mind's eye. "Very well. If you think you can use her, then I will allow it."  
  
Catra winced, even though a wave of relief washed over her at the words.  
  
"But..." _Because there's always a goddamn 'but!'_ "If she begins to distract you from your education in any way, I will revoke that privilege. Never forget, Adora: I expect great things from you. Your talent will one day put Right Zone on the map. I will not allow a base creature like _Catra Leandros_ to interfere with that."  
  
Then the door clicked shut.  
  
There was silence for a long time, and Catra gripped tightly to the parapet and rested her head against it as she fought off the adrenaline aftershocks. Below, the heaviness of her breathing was echoed.  
  
Then, Adora's voice. "Hey... Can you come down? I want to see you."  
  
Catra _vaulted_ over the side, swinging over the lip of the building and practically flying into Adora's outstretched arms. They both stumbled at the impact and hit the floor, but Adora didn't let go and neither did Catra. They babbled over each other, words mixing and jumbling and neither could bring themselves to care as they cried into each other's shoulders at just how close the bullet grazed past them.  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! You know I didn't mean that, right? I just needed to say something she'd accept in order to keep you with me. You're my most important person in the whole world, and I've _never_ thought of you that way."  
  
"I know, I know. It hurt a lot to hear, but I knew you didn't mean it. I know you better than that, better than her. I was just so damn scared she was taking you away from me. I don't ever want us to be apart."  
  
"We won't be. I'll make sure of it."  
  
"You promise?"  
  
"I promise."  
  
They remained on the floor for a long time after.

\----------

"All right, listen up you little shits," Grizzlor announced in his usual charming way on the first day of the new school year. Catra looked around, noting with surprise that there were only a few of them present rather than the full class, all of them kids she knew were the same age as her and Adora.  
  
Grizzlor noticed her quizzical expression, because he snorted and said, "Relax, kid. The rest of the ingrates and ne'er-do-wells'll be here shortly. They know the drill. And after today you will too."  
  
Turning to face the full group, he tapped on the board with one claw. "Like I said, listen up. Now that you've reached this year, all of you should be either transitioning into or very near advanced guitar levels. Don't let it get to your heads, though. There's still one rank higher--expert--and you're gonna be spending the next four years learning the skills you need to attain that rank. Just because you've entered advanced doesn't mean you get to just kick back and relax. Especially right now, when you're still basically just intermediates with a fancier label until you actually learn to act like it.  
  
"So now that you're here, you're all going to be dealing with some changes in the formula. Firstly, now that you're all proficient in acoustic, you'll begin learning how to play electric guitar as well."  
  
Beside her, Catra could feel Adora practically _vibrating_ with excitement, though any thought of teasing her went straight out the window with the pure surge of adrenaline hitting her own veins. Electric guitar! They'd finally be able to play the songs they loved the way they were meant to be played!  
  
Grizzlor continued. "In many ways, it will be a lot like what you've been doing up til this point. But in many ways it will not. So don't think you can just get sloppy with it.  
  
"Second on the list... As most of you probably already know if you've been paying _any_ attention these past few years, while classical guitarists are sometimes utilized in certain orchestra performances, there isn't a whole lot of demand for us on a regular basis. In some ways, that's a good thing, because I can tell you from experience than unless you're a headliner in a major company, orchestra pay completely _blows."_  
  
Catra was caught off guard by the sudden mental image of Grizzlor standing in a group of performers wearing a tux with the same sour expression he always had. The same guy that drove a mud spattered pickup and called them all little shits, who played jazz and classic hair metal at full volume every Tuesday night no matter how often anyone complained. The thought of _him_ having to schmooze it among snooty classical lovers...   
  
Beside her, Adora stifled a laugh into her hand.  
  
"So that means that unless you decide to take up teaching, most of you are going to end up working in bands either on a permanent basis or as a pinch-hitter for a record company. In many ways, that's better. But it also means that before you get out there as professionals, you're going to need to learn to work in groups with other instruments."  
  
Catra's ears shot up.  
  
"Between now and the end of this year--meaning December, not school year--each of you needs to be on the lookout for students you want to be in your group. Ideally you should be able to get along or at least not kill each other since you're going to be stuck together for the next seven years, but it'll be more important for you to play well together. So if you've spent time interacting with people outside this room, good for you. If not, you better start making friends fast. Each group needs to be at least three to five people, and you'll need to choose one of your teachers to sign off on it and agree to oversee your progress."  
  
Here he paused, and glared at the group. "Unless you're ready to impress, do _not_ pick me. Got it?"  
  
A few other kids shifted uncomfortably on their feet. Grizzlor seemed satisfied, and continued.  
  
"Lastly, now that you're on this level, you'll be performing in the end-of-the-year evaluations. This is non-negotiable. It's kinda like a talent competition, but it'll also be a test of your progress as a musician, and depending on how you do you'll each receive both an overall ranking in your age group and in your instrument group. We'll cover that more thoroughly in the spring, but I'd recommend taking some time to think about what you want to perform in between now and then.  
  
"The evaluations will be conducted with a mix of both professional musicians and government employees to make certain that us Right Zone staff aren't playing favorites and the government gets their money's worth. If need be, you can have members of your squads perform backup instrumentals if the song requires it, but if you go that route you better make damn sure your performance will stand out from that. On the plus side, you guys will get the week off and get to watch your fellow students either put on a decent show or fail hilariously, at least until its your turn on the chopping block. Like I said, it's basically a talent show, so if you fuck up at least make in interesting for the rest of us. Any questions."  
  
The look on his face clearly stated that was not an invitation.  
  
"All right then. Start your warm ups while I go get the rest of the cretins."  
  
The kids filed towards the practice instruments and picked out their guitars (though after this many years, most of them had more or less "designated" instruments; Catra was partial to a scrappy little cherrywood with a small dent in the neck.) As they tested the sounds and made small adjustments against what other students had done, Adora murmured, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"  
  
"Duh," Catra snorted back as she gave her guitar a quick strum to confirm everything was to her liking. "But if we wanna have two rhythm guitars and a bassist in one group, I think we're gonna have to convince Grizzlor to be our sponsor. He's the only one here who knows enough about guitar playing to recognize what we can do together, so I'm pretty sure he'll give us a chance if we're ready to impress."  
  
"With you at my back? Always," Adora said with a grin. "So that's rhythm, bass and keyboard. We're gonna need a drummer."  
  
"Aww man. I don't even know anyone in the drum squad."  
  
"Me either," Adora frowned, brows furrowing. "But we can check with Rogelio and Lonnie this evening, see if they know anyone who might be a good fit. If not, we've still got a few months to find someone."  
  
"Sounds like a plan."  
  
Of course, Catra only realized later that they'd kinda taken it for granted that Lonnie and Rogelio would be on board with this endeavor. But when she brought it up over a game of charades in Rogelio's room--his roommate, the only other lizard-kin in Right Zone, was apparently hanging out with fellow upperclassmen for the night--Lonnie just gave her an unimpressed look. "No shit, roadkill. You three are the only motherfuckers in this whole school who can handle me."  
  
'_And I don't wanna spend the next seven years teaching some new gang of jerkwads how to speak sign,'_ Rogelio chipped in._ 'Oh, and I guess you guys are all right too.'_  
  
Well. That took care of that, then.  
  
But that didn't resolve the main issue of finding a drummer to complete the sound.

\----------

By mid-November, Catra was just about ready to pull her fur out.  
  
"Screw me with a dull icepick," She muttered to the rest of the crew as she slumped atop the cafeteria table. "How is it that the drum division is _littered_ with people I've had to beat up? Is there just something about the instrument that attracts assholes?"  
  
"I doubt it," Lonnie said as she poked at some criminally overcooked green beans with her fork. "I think it has more to do with the fact that the non-assholes got snatched up pretty quickly by other teams. Who wants to deal with an aggressive bully for seven years?"  
  
"Fair point."  
  
"I occasionally have some. You gonna eat your potato wedges?"  
  
Catra sighed and slid her tray over. Beside her, Adora--ever the contingency planner--was studying up on how to balance a band without a drummer's sound. It was theoretically possible... But also practically unheard of for rock or any of the harder genres, and the staccato thumpings of her sneakers on the plastic tiles told Catra everything she needed to know about how the research was going. Meanwhile, Rogelio moodily picked at his plate (though it was mostly just him pushing the food around and taking occasional stabs with his butter knife.)  
  
Yeah, it was getting pretty bad. They had managed to get a few practice sections in with different drummers who weren't already attached, but most of the time either the sound wasn't right or they backed off when they realized it was a team composed of both Shadow Weaver's prized pupil _and_ her favorite chew toy. Nobody wanted to navigate that particular mine field, and Catra honestly couldn't blame them for that. Though she could definitely blame them for her current frustration--just because she was trying to be logical about the whole thing didn't mean she couldn't be petty as well.  
  
Inadvertently, her thoughts drifted to the final member of their crew. _Now would be a really good time for a saving grace, what's-your-name._  
  
Speak of the devil, and he'll often appear.  
  
There was a thud behind them and the sound of raucous laughter from the table two over, which Catra had observed before sitting down possessed an unusually high racist quota and promptly put her back to them.  
  
"C'mon, Kyle," A sneering voice said over the laughs. "You still tripping over your own feet?"  
  
"I mean... You did sorta stick your foot out and trip me."  
  
_That voice. _Catra fought the urge to whirl around, forcing herself to turn slowly instead to get a look.  
  
And there he was: the last piece of their little jacked-up jigsaw puzzle, currently pulling himself to his feet and wiping mashed potatoes from his shirt and staring forlornly at the crushed remains of his lunch. Around him, the other guys began to laugh even harder and her hand reflexively tightened into a fist. Then, as Kyle sighed and turned to trudge back to the line, she caught sight of a pair of drumsticks sticking out of his back pocket.  
  
But even better, as she turned back to her own group and tried to quickly throw together a plan, she caught sight of Rogelio's face: mouth halfway open and... Was he _blushing?_ It was hard to tell with the scales, but when she thought back to her dreams... Well, dream Catra didn't seem to notice or care, but Rogelio was the one who was always taking care of Kyle. Or touching him. Or just generally being caught in his orbit.  
  
_Oh, this is just too good._ Catra's face split into a wide grin.  
  
"Oh shit," Lonnie said when she caught sight of her expression, even managing to drag Adora's attention away from her book--and Rogelio's eyes away from Kyle. "I know that face. You're planning something."  
  
If anything, Catra's toothy smile just widened as she stood up, tossing the other three a wink. "I'll be right back."  
  
Taking advantage of her dexterity, she quickly managed to hop, shove and generally muscle her way through the crowds of milling kids and arrived just in time to see Kyle, thinking he was free from the line of degenerates, get beaned in the head with a milk carton to the hoots and jeers of everyone involved. Claws tightening reflexively once more, she nevertheless plastered on a smile that was half fake and half _I'm-gonna-eat-your-goddamn-children_ as she stalked up to the group.  
  
"Hey there."  
  
It was said with a slight purr, but her smile was all fang and it had the desired effect. One by one, the group of bullies went dead silent and stared at her. Even Kyle was taken aback, glancing between her and them as he tried to figure out what was going on.  
  
"What do you want, _Catra?"_ One of the kids--a large bandage plastered over his left cheek down to his jawline--snarled at her.  
  
"Aww, looks like you can be taught, whatever-your-name-is," Catra cooed mockingly back. "Maybe I just wanted to check in and see how the claw marks were doing. You know, since you called me a 'furry fuck' to my face before taking a swing at said face. Karma's a real bitch, huh?"  
  
The kid's fist slammed into the table, rattling the cafeteria trays even as one of his cronies put a hand on his shoulder in warning. Kyle's eyes widened, body tensing like a spring about to launch into fight or flight mode.  
  
"I'm just kidding. I don't actually give a crap about you or your little racist circle-jerk," Catra chuckled before turning to Kyle and holding out a hand, making sure to retract her claws first. "Kyle, right? You're a drummer?"  
  
He stared at her hand like it was a venomous snake for a long instant, before shakily taking it. "Uh, yeah... I'm a drummer."  
  
"Fantastic," Catra smiled, genuinely this time, as she shook his hand. "See, my crew's been spending months looking for a drummer to complete our group. But all we've managed to find so far is a bunch of douchebags like your buddies over there-"  
  
She glanced over his shoulder and stuck her tongue out at the peanut gallery. "So how 'bout it?"  
  
"I mean," Kyle drawled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "You're Catra Leandros, right?"  
  
Catra winced. _Oh no._ "... Is that a problem?"  
  
"No! I just meant..." He trailed off, looking at the floor and kicking absentmindedly at the tiles. "Look, I'm not that great a player. And I'm nowhere near as good as you or Adora Eternia."  
  
Catra's brow and ears both shot up in unison. "You've heard of us?"  
  
"Who hasn't? I mean, the way everyone tells it you two were playing songs that had advanced guitarists stumbling when you were _seven._ Even for a place like this, that's insane."  
  
Huh. It was a bit of an exaggeration, as to be expected with rumors, but still... It had never really occurred to Catra that she'd be developing a reputation too, or at least not one that didn't revolve around being Shadow Weaver's favorite stress ball or doling out ass-kickings to the deserving. Adora, sure; everyone knew she was a prodigy. Herself? _That_ was a surprise.   
  
Nonetheless...  
  
"Look," She smiled warmly as she put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm gonna level with you. A lack of skill can be fixed. But you've already got something I want on my team."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Lack of the terminal condition of being a complete and total asshole, which is way more than I can say for the other drummers in this place," She looked over his head _(damn_ this kid was tiny!) and bared her teeth at the bullies, the one she'd already talked to looking like he was three seconds away from having a stroke. "So, do you wanna give it a shot? At least for a little while?"  
  
He thought it over, then nodded with a small smile. "Ok."  
  
"Cool. Go get yourself some more food and meet us at our table so we can talk business, all right?"  
  
Another nod, and Kyle walked away with a noticeable spring in his step. Grinning, Catra spared one last look at her audience and mouthed _"Get fucked"_ before turning on her heel and strolling smugly back to their table, where all three members had been watching with rapt attention.  
  
"You," Lonnie declared as she slid back into her seat beside Adora, shoulders nudging playfully, as was their custom. "Are the ballsiest bitch I have ever met."  
  
"Aww, thanks pumpkin. Stick around and you'll get there too one day."  
  
Lonnie snickered in return. Meanwhile, Rogelio--who had kept his face buried in his hands for the exchange--freed one up to sign at Catra. _'You are hands-down the biggest asshole I have ever met. And I'm not sure whether I want to kill you or kiss you for this.'_  
  
"Save it for the wonder twink, big guy," Catra chuckled as she resumed shovelling her by now cold food into her mouth. (He'd had a growth spurt over the summer and was now an inch or two taller than the rest of the group, though still way scrawnier and unassuming compared to the Rogelio in her dreams.)  
  
Adora raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of them, a slow grin spreading over her face as she put two and two together. "Oh! _Oh..."_  
  
Rogelio groaned into his hands and banged his head on the table.

\----------

But of course, it couldn't be that simple.  
  
Catra fought back a sigh when she heard the misfire of a snare drum as Kyle missed the hi-hat and hit it instead. Just as they'd been getting into the groove, the music ground to a halt once more.  
  
_"Really,_ Kyle?" Lonnie snarled in frustration, and Catra winced at the memories of the exact same casual disdain being cast at dream Kyle by... Well, pretty much everyone except Rogelio.  
  
Especially her other self.  
  
_Chill, Leandros. It's gonna be different this time._ Admittedly, she was feeling the stress herself with the deadline to get Grizzlor's approval fast approaching, but she could keep a handle on it. Lonnie, not so much. Even _Adora's_ face was starting to tighten as she rubbed at her temples and declared, "All right guys, let's all take ten and cool down a bit. Drink some water."  
  
Catra sighed and turned off the electric guitar, setting it on its stand as she sauntered over to the table where most of their things were spread out, including the water bottles Kyle had brought. Twisting the cap off, she took a long swig before turning and leaning back against the wall, watching Rogelio pat Kyle on the back while Adora and Lonnie had a very animated conversation on the other side of the room. Lots of hand gestures.  
  
Turned out one of the major perks of being in an actual band now was having access to the private practice rooms on the second floor. Not all the time; they still had to sign up in advance, but it was a huge step up from going down to the common practice room and trying to both work and figure things out between the five of them with at least a dozen other kids around making noise too.  
  
Unfortunately, being in close quarters like this also meant that little mistakes they once would have shrugged off and kept going past were so much more obvious.  
  
Across from her, Lonnie threw up her hands and _stomped_ her way over to Catra, getting right up in her face. "Ok, you need to spill before I lose my mind."  
  
"Uh..." Catra drawled, tugging at one of her ears. "Spill what, exactly?"  
  
"Don't you 'spill what exactly" me!" Lonnie hissed, punctuating each word with a finger jab between Catra's collarbones. "You made a damn beeline for him the instant you spotted him in the cafeteria. And while it is _hilarious,_ I know you better than to think you'd bring someone on board just because Rogelio has a flaming crush on him. So you need to explain what exactly it is you're seeing in this kid, because frankly I'm stumped."  
  
Catra's brow furrowed, struggling to think of a way to explain that _didn't_ sound completely insane._ Oh, you know, I've been having dreams of a parallel universe most of my life and Kyle was a big part of it along with the rest of you, so I kinda figured he should be with us now so I can complete the set._  
  
Yeah, that'd go over real well.  
  
"Um... Excuse me, Lonnie?" Kyle's voice cut in over her shoulder.  
  
Lonnie's eyes slid shut as she took a deep breath, mouth moving silently as she counted down from five. "Yeah, Kyle?"  
  
"Sorry to bother you, but can I get a look at your keyboard real quick?"  
  
"Uh... Sure? What are you-?"  
  
"Thanks!" Kyle cut her off cheerfully as he marched over to where Lonnie's keyboard was set up and removed a small tool set from his back pocket. Tilting their heads to the side, the three girls of the group all converged in a half circle near him to watch.  
  
Kyle hummed thoughtfully as he removed the case screws and carefully set the board casing aside before doing the same to the key stop. That done, he softly tapped a few keys toward the center of the board, pausing when one made a sound that wasn't quite right.  
  
"There you are," He murmured as he took out a spudget from the tool set and gently wiggled it underneath the key before pulling it free, making sure to grab the tension spring before it flew off and examining the underside. Tutting to himself, he took a soft cloth from his back pocket and coaxed out some buildup from underneath, before quickly reassembling the key with practiced motions. "Give it a try real quick."  
  
Eyebrows rapidly taking up residence near her hairline, Lonnie reached over and tapped a quick melody across the particular keys. Unlike before, the sound came out crisp and clear. "Wow, okay."  
  
Kyle grinned before shifting his attention to putting the case back together. "Sorry to be a pest, but that's been bothering me all afternoon. They really don't maintain these instruments often enough. Uh, not that that's any reflection on you personally... Why are you looking at me like that?"  
  
Shaking her head a little, Lonnie stepped a few feet back out of earshot and turned to Catra incredulously, and Catra knew _exactly_ what to say.  
  
"See?" She said, leaning in so that only Lonnie and Adora could hear her. "When he's not feeling uneasy, the guy does just fine. It's just anxiety throwing him off his game."  
  
Lonnie glanced at Kyle in her peripheral vision, face turning thoughtful. "Yeah... Ok. We can work with this."  
  
Stepping back towards Kyle, she gave him a friendly pat on the back. "Hey, thanks a lot, man. I really appreciate it."  
  
Kyle practically glowed under the thanks.  
  
A soft smile on her lips, Catra turned to look at Adora, who mirrored the expression and mouthed, "_You did good_."  
  
And if her tail whipped a little faster in response, well that was just between Catra and her hummingbird heart.

\----------

"Really?" Grizzlor raised one shaggy eyebrow as he looked up from the paperwork to the five players assembled before him. "I mean yeah, if any of these kids could pull it off it'd be you two-" (A nod at Catra and Adora.) "-but still. _Really?"_  
  
Catra gave him a fang-y grin and strummed the electric in response while Adora replied, "Don't you think you should save your judgement for _after_ we play?"  
  
The big man heaved a put-upon sigh, but Catra's sharp eyes could detect a hint of a smile playing along the edges of his lips. "All right then, you cocky little brats. Show me what you got."  
  
And oh, they had spent _weeks_ working out exactly which song to play: something that would show off all their strengths, something Adora could easily adapt to Catra's extra rhythm guitar to make it absolutely clear that she was not here just to skate along playing backup: that the two of them were equals.  
  
With that list of qualifications, there'd really only been one proper choice. Adora glanced over and met Catra's eyes with that cocky grin she always got before a performance as Lonnie lead them in with the keyboard section, before segueing into the opening lines, _"Just a small town girl.../Livin' in a lonely world/She took the midnight train goin' anywhere..."_  
  
Catra couldn't help the little chuckle of glee she got as she traded off the guitar section to Adora and took the next lines instead.  
  
And that was how it went, both Catra and Adora trading back and forth between instruments and vocals before coming together during each and every chorus. But the real show-stopper came at that climactic guitar solo, when they both _shredded_ into it in unison before transitioning into a smooth comedown.  
  
Grizzlor was practically roaring with pleased laughter as they finished up. "Oh fuck the hell _yes!_ Well done, all of you!"  
  
Breaking off into approving little chuckles, he picked up his pen and started filling out the paperwork. "Ok, you've impressed me. But I wouldn't be doing my due diligence if I didn't ask this. Not all songs will be as easy to adapt to two rhythm guitars as 'Don't Stop Believin''. How are you planning to resolve that problem in the future?"  
  
"I've begun studying composition in my spare time," Adora declared proudly. "If you give me some time, I'll be able to create songs designed specifically for two rhythm guitars."  
  
"Very good," Grizzlor finished the last signature with a surprising flourish. "I'll be expecting great things from all of you."  
  
And as Catra catches Adora's proud smile and resulting fist bump, she realizes that those words mean more to both of them than _anything_ Shadow Weaver ever told her.

\----------

The first few months of the new year fly by, and pretty soon they're locked down in preparing for the end of the school year examinations. Three important things ended up happening in quick succession.  
  
The first was when Adora raised the idea of a friendly competition to her.  
  
Catra had been sitting relaxed on the bottom bunk, looking over the sheet music for the song she'd picked for her solo exam--a sexy little number called "One Way Or Another" (no, not that one) by a somewhat obscure 70s band called Cactus. She wouldn't be singing; she preferred to do that only as Adora's backing vocals, since to be honest her voice wasn't anything to write home about, but that didn't matter when the entire song was basically one kickass electric guitar solo (and if she was being equally honest, the lyrics themselves kinda sucked anyway.)  
  
Catra and Adora had both been having growth spurts off and on throughout the year, and she was so close to being able to properly play Tao's guitar _(her_ guitar, she thought with a burst of warmth in her chest) that it made the tips of her fingers twitch. But for now she could work with it, resting part of the body on the mattress as she slowly went through the fret work.  
  
"So... I've been thinking," Adora called from her seat next to the desk, where she was practicing composing. She was still a long way from making a full song, but bit by bit, piece by piece she was slowly getting there.  
  
Catra chuckled, feeling mellow in the later afternoon sunlight. "Isn't that a little dangerous?"  
  
"Har har. Guess you won't be interested in hearing my proposal then."  
  
"What proposal?" Catra glanced over, taking the bait the way Adora knew she would (she didn't mind though.)  
  
"Just a friendly little competition, to see which one of us does better in the exams."  
  
Catra's heart sank, along with the alignment of her ears. "Adora.."  
  
"No, no, just listen," Adora hastily cut in, tossing aside the pen and sliding the desk chair over so she could take Catra's hand in hers. "I don't mean the official scores. I know that with Shadow Weaver being... well, _Shadow Weaver,_ let's be real here, that it isn't safe for you to compete directly with me. And I would _never_ ask you to put yourself in danger like that."  
  
Four years later, and the truth of that acknowledgement was still the bitterest pill Catra had ever had to swallow (even worse than the realization on her eleventh birthday that she had now spent more than half her life with her parents dead in the ground, and that percentage would only get larger from here on out.)  
  
But Adora's eyes, her utter sincerity, keeps her grounded, and not for the first time Catra feels an _ache_ deep in her chest she can't quite explain but reverberates through her bones like a too tight string.  
  
"I just thought it would be fun to get the rest of the crew to weigh in on our performances. Make a game of it, since they're gonna be watching anyway and they know us way better than any judges."  
  
"Ok... I can work with that... I mean, Lonnie's probably unalterably biased in your direction just to spite me and Rogelio's my bro, so with Kyle in the middle we might _actually_ have a fifty-fifty chance each," Catra stroked her chin with faux thoughtfullness when Adora giggled. "Does the winner get anything besides bragging rights?"  
  
"Hmm... How 'bout the loser has to play one song of the winner's choice? Private performance."  
  
"Doesn't seem like much of a punishment unless the winner picks something really ridiculous. Like, I dunno... 'Achey Breaky Heart?'"  
  
"Do _not_ even joke about that," Adora warned, smacking Catra lightly on the shoulder. "And I mean, it wouldn't be much of a friendly competition if we were trying to punish each other. It's just for fun, you know?"  
  
_God knows we don't have a lot of time for fun._ Catra thought as she ran a thumb over the back of Adora's hand. The ache in her chest deepened.

"Ok, I'm in."  
  
The second was when Catra ran into Kyle being cornered by a trio that she had previously only thought of as _her_ tormentors.  
  
They weren't getting physical with him yet, but they had him crowded against the wall where he couldn't break free, and as Catra crept silently closer--claws flexing in and out--she picked up on what they were saying.  
  
"What's the matter, Kyle? Can't stand on your own without your scaly boyfriend to protect you?"  
  
"Man, it's not enough that you had to be such a pussy. But a lizard fucker too? Talk about a disgace."  
  
"What, did you just bend over for the first person willing to put up with you?"  
  
"What did we ever do to you?" Kyle's voice wasn't even anxious, just _sad._ "I mean, why do you even hate hybrids so much? Why can't you just leave us alone?"

Catra's blood _boiled._  
  
"I'll tell you wh-" The one in the middle began, only to freeze in place.  
  
Without even noticing it herself, too caught up in the haze (_was it supposed to be red? she couldn't tell_) dancing at the edges of her vision, Catra had stalked up behind him and now had her claws wrapped around his throat, arching around so she was cupping the front just a little off from the carotid and digging in just enough that she could feel little beads of blood touching the tips of her fingers.  
  
"I hope you're all taking notes," How was her voice so calm swimming up through all the rage inside? "Because Rogelio isn't the only one who cares. We all care. _I_ care. And if I ever catch any of you near Kyle again--or any of my friends for that matter--then I can promise you one thing: God himself won't be able to recognize you when I'm through with you. Now get the _fuck_ away from my drummer."  
  
The entire group scattered like roaches when Catra released her grip, and she slumped against the wall, staring at the little grey beads of coppery-smelling blood on her hands and wondering what the hell had just crawled inside her.  
  
"Catra, you okay?" Kyle sat down beside her.  
  
"I don't know what just happened," She admitted, even though deep down... She knew that feeling all too well. She dreamed about it nearly every night. "Are _you_ okay?"  
  
He gave a little half shrug. "I mean, thanks for making sure they didn't actually hurt me or anything. They're just words."  
  
_Yeah right. And sticks and stones only break bones._ "Not to make this any more awkward, but was there any truth to what they were saying? Not the gross shit, but... You and Rogelio?"  
  
Kyle just sighed, pulling his knees to his chest and propping his chin on them. "I mean... I _do_ like him. He's really smart, and funny. And kind. And he always looks out for me. But I don't want him to think that I like him _just_ because he's always doing things for me, you know?"  
  
"Makes sense," Catra conceded.  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"Huh? Oh... I don't really have anyone like that."  
  
His head jerked toward her, a single eyebrow going _way_ up as if to say, "Seriously?"  
  
"What?" Catra muttered, fighting down the urge to rub nervously at the back of her neck.  
  
"Catra, you're a good friend. But you are the densest person I have ever met."  
  
"Thanks?" She sputtered out, not even knowing how to reply to that as Kyle pulled himself to his feet and held out a hand for hers, completely ignoring the blood still dotting her fur.  
  
"You're welcome. And thanks for the save again. Let's go find the others, okay?"  
  
And the third event... Well, that's the one that nearly _breaks_ her.  
  
It's almost exactly one month before the exams, and Catra feels like someone doused her fur in gasoline and then tossed a lit match her way.  
  
Thirty seven. That's how many it was this time. So many that eventually Shadow Weaver had to stop aiming for her back and go after her thighs and shoulders instead.  
  
_"Let this be a lesson to you, you little ingrate,"_ Shadow Weaver hissed in her ear when Catra's knees finally gave out._ "You may think you can continue to lean on Adora, but if you do anything to interfere with her performance next month, this will all feel like a love tap."_  
  
It had taken her about twenty minutes to pick herself up off the floor and actually leave the office.  
  
What had she even been doing before? Her mind struggled to focus through the flames licking across her skin, finally lighting on a crinkling in her pocket. Oh right. She'd been getting more strings for her guitar. _That_ was why Adora hadn't found her yet; Shadow Weaver had come after her when she knew Catra wouldn't be missed for awhile.  
  
Her throat choked on a sob as she forced herself to take another step on the stairs. _Just keep going. Just a little longer. Adora'll help. She promised._  
  
Time stopped having meaning, and without rhyme or reason she found herself standing in front of the door to their room, resting both palms against it to ease the shaking of her legs and letting her forehead kiss the cool wood.  
  
She heard laughter inside and words, unintelligible but in voices she knew. Something scratched at the back of her mind.  
  
And then she remembered. She remembered her and Adora petitioning the staff for _weeks_ to be able to have the rest of the squad sleep over with them for the night: eat popcorn from town and tell scary stories and all that fun stuff. That was why she had gone to get the new strings; they'd asked her to play for them. Guess that was off the table.  
  
She tried to force herself away from the door, to leave and find somewhere to hide away until the pain stopped, so she wouldn't _ruin_ everything... But she was too damn weak now. She couldn't even force her legs to stand upright.  
  
Catra _whined,_ low and animalistic and oh how she hated it with every fiber of her being. Couldn't stand and fight, couldn't run away. Just another animal caught in a trap it couldn't escape.  
  
"Hang on a sec, guys," A voice from the other side of the door. "That you, Catra...?"  
  
The door swung inward, and all that had been keeping her upright was yanked away.  
  
She slammed forward, half hitting the ground and half hitting warm softness and everything hurt no matter which one it was and she could barely even breathe past the_ howlwhinesob_ in her throat and all she could smell was copper and Adora and it hurt too much and there was so much _noise_ all of a sudden as someone clattered to their feet and shouted, "What the _fuck?!"_  
  
Lonnie, then. Swearing wasn't really Kyle's thing and Rogelio... Well, that one was obvious.  
  
"Shit, shit_, shit_!" Adora hissed as she tried to drag Catra against her the way she usually did, but her shoulders--until now a safe zone--lit on _fire_ when she grabbed on and Catra fought and twisted away with a strangled yelp. "Rogelio, help me grab her! Lonnie, drag the mattress onto the floor. Kyle, you get the peroxide from the bottom drawer of the nightstand."  
  
Another arm across her shoulders and it hurt but the cool scales against her heat-fried brain nearly made her sob in relief even as another whine tore itself free from her throat.  
  
"It's okay, it's okay, you're going to be _okay,"_ Adora repeated frantically over and over against her ear. "I've got you. _We've_ got you."  
  
Then she was stretched out facedown on a mattress with her claws digging into the edge and the smell of spilled popcorn crushed beneath it in haste and Adora still barking orders. "Lonnie, I need you to hold down her lower legs. Rogelio, her claws can't pierce your scales so I need you to hold her hands so she won't dig them into her palms. Kyle... Just keep breathing, buddy, it's gonna be okay."  
  
"Oh, there's nothing about this that is even _remotely_ okay!" Lonnie half shouted even as she grabbed Catra's legs. "What the actual hell? Did she get jumped or something on the way back? Did a fucking _bear_ maul her?"  
  
And if Catra had been even been halfway in her right mind at that point, she would have laughed at the absurdity of the whole thing. Because even though it was an open secret around Right Zone what Shadow Weaver did to her... Well, knowing it academically and actually _seeing_ the results were two very different animals.  
  
(The unwanted thought of the looks in their eyes after all this was over killed any levity she had and made her want to curl up into a ball until she became no bigger than a speck.)  
  
She must have missed part of a conversation, because Rogelio briefly removed a hand from hers before relacing their fingers and Lonnie _spat_ in response. "Oh my God, that fucking _bitch."_  
  
Big mood. But even though Catra could practically hear the responding _thrum_ of anger from Adora perched beside her... Well, Adora had dealt with this exact situation many times before, even if never quite this bad. So she was an old hand at powering through it. "Kyle, I need the scissors. I'm gonna have to cut through her shirt. Just keep breathing in and out, okay? Like Rogelio taught you."  
  
Tugging against her back, against the still half-opened scabs, before finally her shirt peels away and Catra feels like she's been flayed alive. Adora sucks in a strangled breath, and Catra can almost picture her frantically running her hands through her hair as she gathers herself. _"Shit...!_ I'm gonna have to sew some of these up."  
  
_"What?!"_ Lonnie or Kyle... The pitch made it impossible to tell either way.  
  
"Look, I can't bandage these, all right? Not all of them. If it bothers you so much I'll tell you when to close your eyes. Just keep her from thrashing."  
  
Then there's fingers scritching against her ear, and the contrast between sensations is so extreme that Catra whimpers. "Catra, this is gonna hurt a lot, but I have to clean the wounds. I'm so sorry."  
  
And she wants to say "It's okay" and "I trust you" but every thought and sound suddenly goes into pure whiteout, and she must have pulled hard because when she comes back to herself there's the weight of a full body pressed down against her legs and hands holding her head down and _fuck_ _it hurts_...!  
  
"Okay, okay," Adora's soothing her again, muttering half to Catra and half to herself. "The really hard part's over now. We both know that, remember? Cleaning it always hurts the worst."  
  
Which is true, yeah, but they've never actually had to stitch one of Catra's wounds closed, so they're in uncharted territory now.  
  
"Kyle, I need you to look in the very bottom of the drawer. There's a suture kit down there, and I'm also gonna need a pair of gloves."  
  
"You planned for this?!"  
  
_"Yes,_ Lonnie, I had to for this exact reason! I literally budget for medical supplies every quarter! I was kinda hoping I would never _have_ to use it!" Deep breath. "Kyle, how are you doing?"  
  
"R-Really freaked out, but I'm still present and accounted for."  
  
"Good, I've got a job to keep you distracted while I stitch her up. I need you to work on soothing Catra for me, okay?"  
  
_That_ breaks through the haze of pain, and Catra just barely turns her head to the side enough to grind out, "Not... the ears..."  
  
It's not that Catra doesn't trust Kyle, or any of them really. But apart from her parents and Tao, she's only ever let one other person touch her ears willingly before and that vulnerability being exposed now has her grinding her teeth in rage.  
  
A pause above her. "Okay, don't touch her ears. Just run your hands through her hair and maybe scratch the back of her neck once in a while. She likes that. Rogelio and Lonnie, you both ready?"  
  
A pair of grunts in affirmation, followed by the familiar snap of latex gloves sliding on, and the feel of a gloved finger giving one last gentle stroke along her ear. "Catra, this would be a really, _really_ good time for you to pass out. But if not, I'm so damn _sorry."_  
  
"S'fine... Trust... You..." This time, she forces the words out just before the first pass of the needle through her skin.  
  
Time just sorta broke down at that point into nothing but a series of distorted perceptions; hands running through her mane, the gentle squeeze of scales against her fingers, breath mumbling against her legs while Lonnie forces herself not to look and just focuses on keeping Catra stationary, and of course, _pain._ Lots of it.  
  
And through it all, Adora's voice keeping her anchored. "It's okay... You're doing so well... I've got you, I've _got_ you."  
  
She clings to it until finally Adora sits back heavily against the bedframe with a shaky exhale. "Ok. Stitches are done. You guys can sit back if you need to while I clean and bandage the rest."  
  
Back in what has the dubious honor of being Catra's "comfort" zone for the moment, because as least this is familiar as Adora goes through the process of teasing out fur and cloth from the remaining wounds and applying no-stick bandages in the aftermath (and God, no kid should be as good at wound dressing as Adora has become in the past few years.)  
  
The pressure's gone from her legs and her hands are free, but there's still hands running through her mane and every once in a while there's a scratch of blunted claws against the back of her neck that is definitely not from Kyle, and Catra wants so _badly_ to sleep but it still hasn't processed through her brain that she's safe now, as relative as the concept is in this case.  
  
"How often does this happen?" Lonnie's voice, a little thicker than usual but still carrying a hint of her characteristic grit.  
  
Adora's hands pause, and she reaches up to stroke at Catra's ears to fill the gap and the resulting endorphin rush is so good she almost leaves her body for a second. "It's never been quite this bad before. But... About once every two or three weeks, give or take?"  
  
There's a moment of silence. Then, "If I ever get the opportunity I'm going to kill that woman."  
  
Rogelio must sign something, because Adora barks an angry, bitter laugh. "You'll both have to get in line first."  
  
Kyle's voice cuts in then. "I mean... I heard other kids talking sometimes about what Ms. Weaver does to kids who get sent to her office, but this is..."  
  
Adora swallows hard. "Yeah... I know. I would have told you guys sooner, but Catra doesn't like to be vulnerable like this, and I promised I'd take care of her. It's just... Yeah."  
  
She breaks off, trying to convey all of the messed up, visceral _wrongness_ of the whole sorry affair and either the other three get it or they're just as wiped out, because there's no real talking after that.  
  
When Catra wakes up again, the lights are out and there's breathing all around her and beneath her cheek from where she's curled up on Adora's chest. Even though it still hurts like hell to move, she cranes her neck around; sees Lonnie sprawled across the foot of the mattress with one leg touching Catra's, Rogelio and Kyle curled up together half on and half off the left side.  
  
Here. They're all here. She's as safe as she's ever gonna be.  
  
Catra tucks her head back beneath Adora's chin, listens to the steady pulse of her heartbeat, and closes her eyes.

\----------

It took about three days before Catra could get out of bed unaided, and the other three rotated taking the day off because Adora doing so wasn't an option with Shadow Weaver out for blood and as Lonnie so eloquently put it, "Like _fuck_ are we leaving you alone right now."  
  
So that was that, really. She split the next week and a half between class, light practicing and sleeping a lot while her body got over the torture. (Because frankly, there really is no other word for it at this point. She just straight up got _tortured.)_  
  
The worst of the bruises still stung by the time exams rolled around, but the cuts had healed and Catra was used to playing through the pain so her performance went off without too much issue.  
  
Adora, to the surprise of no one, ended up taking the number one rank overall, and even holding back Catra easily placed 5th, with the other three each scoring somewhere in the top forty percent. That seems to forestall any wrath from Shadow Weaver, though for the next week all four staunchly _refuse_ to let Catra leave her and Adora's room without at least one of them guarding her back. (Ordinarily Catra would feel smothered by the attention, but after last month... Yeah, she sucks it up and takes it like a Magicat because everyone, herself included, feels a little safer that way.)  
  
Eventually, the threat level passes and things settle back into something resembling a funhouse mirror image of normality, but normal-ish nonetheless.

\----------

Of all the memories of her time in the Fright Zone, there's one in particular that Catra holds onto harder than anything.  
  
It's a late Sunday afternoon in the last days of fall, a little after her twelfth birthday and they've got the window open and a cool breeze blows gently into the room. The other three members of their merry little band of misfits are on their monthly trip to town, but her and Adora don't go until next week, so it's just the two of them.   
  
Back in the summer, Adora used the last of her leftover stipend to buy a cheap tape player and a small army of cassettes, so right now she's playing _Bat out of Hell_ and singing along softly under her breath as she practices transcribing by ear. Soon she'll be writing entire songs of her own, Catra just knows it.  
  
She's alternated most of the afternoon between occasionally singing along and just kicking back and enjoying the wind combing through her fur when it strikes her that now would be a good time for some maintenance. So with a little difficulty she wiggles under the bunk and drags Tao's guitar free, and as she takes it in both hands it finally hits her. "No way!"  
  
Adora hits pause on the tape and glances over. "What's up?"  
  
"Check it out for yourself," Catra laughs proudly, as she turns around with the guitar held loosely in her hands. Finally, at long last... She grew into it. It's _hers_ now.  
  
"Catra, that's awesome! You gonna play anything?"  
  
"Depends," She teases a little as she attaches the strap and hangs her guitar properly across her waist. "Got any requests?"  
  
Adora's eyes sparkle a little when she smiles. "I didn't win the contest this year."  
  
"Neither did I," Catra points out. After everything that had happened, they both agreed to put their game on hold this year. Next time, they agreed, assuming Shadow Weaver let them have any peace. _Next time._  
  
"All right," Adora chews her lip a little, thinking, before flashing an easy grin. "I think the only proper way to celebrate is with the most famous guitar solo of all time, yeah?"  
  
"Well," Catra chuckles. "You can up the challenge later, but I can get on board with that sentiment. So at the lady's request... Here's 'Stairway to Heaven.'"  
  
She plays her way through the whole thing, not just the solo, and soon she's losing herself in the sound and Adora's singing under her breath and everything feels good and right with the world. As she finishes, Catra comes down slowly, the thrum of the guitar still vibrating beneath her claws and then she opens her eyes to ask for another song and then...  
  
Adora's got her arm propped on the windowsill and her chin on her hand, and there's a smile playing across her lips as she finishes humming the last few bars and as Catra stares the last few rays of the sun catch her hair _just_ right and maybe _that's_ what gold is supposed to look like to humans--and if so Catra might finally understand the appeal, because her _chest_ aches and she can barely breathe as Adora glances over at her with those beautiful blue eyes and that smile of hers and finally, _finally_ Catra understands...  
  
_Oh._  
  
"You okay?"  
  
Suddenly she can breathe freely again, and blinks back the awareness that absolutely _everything_ and yet basically nothing just changed in the span of a single heartbeat. Catra smiles back, chuckling internally at the person whose skin she'd been blindly living in until just now. "Never better."  
  
And funnily enough, it isn't a lie.  
  
_Hey, Adora... Turns out, I just love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Standard author disclaimer of responsible info: obviously stitching someone up without anesthetic is really inadvisable unless you literally have no choice. And while I couldn't find a good time to mention it, Adora practiced for a long time on various substitutes (like bananas) just in case she needed to do this one day. Don't suture someone up without practicing first, kids.
> 
> The song they play for Grizzlor is "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey, but I'd be shocked if anyone doesn't know that one. Also...
> 
> The Imaginary Reader Who Lives In My Brain: Gee, Mal, you sure do like to draw parallels with other scenes in this series.  
Me: That's because I'm gay and in a constant state of romantic yearning. Now mind your own friggin' business.
> 
> Next time: We're back in rom-com territory as Adora and Catra both try to navigate consolidating a lifetime worth of memories with ten years of separation, to the increasing disbelief and exasperation of everyone around them. Because nothing is ever simple with these two. See you then.


End file.
